


What a dizzy dance

by MsPeppernose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Model!Bucky, Neighbours AU, One cat to rule them all, Pining, Sexual Harassment, Shrunkyclunks, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: An AU where Bucky is a model but Steve is still Steve. They live next to each other and Bucky keeps accidentally stealing Steve's cat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has had a couple of incarnations of the last few months. My aim is to post chapters weekly, but I'll see how that goes.
> 
> It's pretty Gen to start but will get NSFW later on in the story. I'll add tags for any warnings etc as i go!
> 
> Thank you to @coastingon-potential and @rosiedoestumblr for encouragement <333

Bucky can hear a faint scratching, and at first he ignores it. 

After a brief silence the noise begins again, so Bucky looks around his apartment. Just as he’s wondering if he has mice, he sees a small fluffy cat sitting at on his balcony.

He smiles, because at least he doesn’t have mice, but he lives on the fifteenth floor so he has no idea where this kitty came from.

He opens the door when she scratches again, and then with only a quick glance up to him, she walks into his apartment like she owns the place.

“Hello there,” he says. She winds herself around his legs and he bends down to pet her. She’s clean and friendly, and she’s come from the balcony of a fifteenth story apartment, so she must be someone’s pet.

His neighbours are an old couple on one side, who apart from the old lady trying to feed Bucky home baked cookies, keep to themselves. They have a yappy little Pomeranian, so Bucky’s sure that the cat is not there’s, which must mean that it’s belonging to the quiet guy who lives on the other side. 

Bucky’s seen him in the hallway a handful of times but has never paid much attention to him (other than that he’s built like a truck and he often hangs out with a redhead).

The cat meows again so Bucky scritches the top of her head and the back of her neck until she squeezes her eyes shut, happy at the attention. She headbutts his hand when he stops and he laughs at her; she’s sweet and it’s not often he has company. He picks her up and she goes easily into his arms, purring loudly.

“Wow, you’re super friendly, ain’t you? I’m sure your person is looking for you.”

She meows again.

“Okay, you can stay for a while, but then you gotta go home. Okay?”

There’s no meow this time, just deep purring, so Bucky settles down on the sofa and she curls into a warm ball in his lap. She doesn’t move until about two hours later when her ears prick up like she’s heard something, and she looks towards the balcony again. She hops down off Bucky’s lap and squeezes herself through the gap in the open balcony door. 

*

“There you are!” Steve says softly. He bends down and scoops up a handful of fluffy cat. “I thought you’d run off.”

The little cat mews and then purrs in his arms as he scratches her behind the ears. He knows she likes to wander off, and he’s sure she visits the neighbouring balconies from time to time, but he does tend to worry that she’ll get hurt or lost and not come home.

He takes her inside and shuts the door to the balcony behind him. He places her on the counter top in the kitchen and she meows again knowing that she’s about to get fed when he reaches up to open the cupboard.

He bends down to the floor and squeezes out a pouch of cat food into her little bowl. It smells foul and Steve makes a face as he does it. She leaps down from her position on the counter and tucks in right away.

“Well, at least if you’re getting fed somewhere else, it’s not enough to keep you from coming back to me for dinner.”

The cat doesn’t react, just nibbles away at her bowl of food and Steve picks up the plate of dinner he’s already made for himself - spaghetti and meatballs. He sits back down on the couch, content to have a quiet evening, just him and his cast - a stark contrast to some of the evenings he’s had recently. He places his plate on the coffee table, and there’s just enough room left to put his socked feet up on it too. He crosses them at the ankle and the cat soon joins him, settling in his lap and sitting her paws on his chest. 

Steve looks down at her and scritches her again. She closes her eyes happily and leans in against him. 

“You smell like cologne, cat. And not mine. Where the hell do you go? You got a boyfriend?”

The cat mews at him so he just laughs and continues petting her.

She disappears again, though.

“Cat? Cat!” Steve calls. “Where the hell are you, Libby?”

He wanders around his apartment, looking under tables and chairs, under his bed, even in the laundry hamper. It’s a small apartment, and he can’t quite understand how she goes missing so often. 

When he’s satisfied that she’s not in the apartment he sticks his head out into the hallway and looks up and down. Considering he hasn’t opened his front door since he got home last night, the chances of her sitting out there are less than tiny, but it’s worth checking.

His last resort is his balcony. It’s small; enough space for a couple of plants, two steel chairs and a little round table. It’s empty, no cat to be found, but it’s right next to his neighbour’s balcony.

Steve doesn’t know his neighbour at all. He knows that it’s a guy who lives alone, but he keeps to himself. He’s quiet; the best possible quality in a next door neighbour. 

But Steve figures he’s going to have to go looking for his cat, so he stands at the little partition between his balcony and the next and peers over. There’s no sign of a cat, and other than a single patio chair, there’s nothing on the balcony at all - maybe she’s wandered into his neighbour’s apartment. 

“Liberty! Libby?” Steve calls again. He feels a little foolish, but it’s getting late and he needs to know that she’s safe.

There’s no response, not a sound. Steve’s wondering if he’s going to have to knock on his neighbour’s door and ask if the guy has seen Cat, when he hears the sound of a balcony door opening. 

Steve might have seen his neighbour in passing, but not like this; the guy is wearing a snug-fitting wifebeater and low slung jeans, his hair is artfully messy and he has at least three days of stubble on his very strong jaw. He’s also got Steve’s cat in his arms, though she looks very happy to be there.

“I’m guessing this is your cat?” the guy says.

“Yeah, I was just wondering where she’d gotten to.”

“She heard you. Started scratching my door. She comes to visit me often. Hope that’s okay?”

Though he doesn’t sound like he particularly cares if it’s okay with Steve, he hands Libby back over the partition and Steve gladly takes the large ball of meowing fluff back. 

“I was wondering where she gets to. You seem to be taking good care of her, so it’s fine with me.”

There’s a beat of silence where the guy just stares at Steve, strong jaw locked and blue eyes steely. It’s hard not to stare back; this guy is in serious shape, lean and toned, and his left arm has a full sleeve of biomechanical tattoos from shoulder to wrist.

Steve clears his throat, stops himself from staring and says, “Liberty.”

“What?” The guy says, and he sounds half confused and half amused.

“Her name. It’s Liberty. Libby.”

“Right,” the guy says.

“And I’m Steve.”

The guy is already walking away, back to the door of his apartment. He looks back over his shoulder and with a devastating smile says, “I’m Bucky.”

And then he’s gone, and Steve decides standing on his balcony alone at night staring at the space that a very attractive man used to be in is a little weird, so he goes back inside his own apartment.

“So that’s where you’ve been going,” Steve says to Libby. He puts her down as he locks his balcony door. “I can see why.”

She meows at him. 

“I’m not judging you, believe me.”

*

Bucky closes his balcony door and pulls the drapes.

So now he’s officially met his neighbour, and not only is his neighbour built like a truck and incredibly hot, but his neighbour has a very sweet cat.

His neighbour is also Captain America, something Bucky didn’t manage to spot those times they passed each other in the hall.

He sits back down on his couch, on the warm spot where the cat - Liberty - had been curled up, and pulls out his laptop. Obviously he googles Captain America, and ends up spending far too long trawling through wikipedia pages and fanblogs reading about him. He belatedly worries that Captain America probably has all the wifi in the area tapped for security or something and Bucky will come across like the creepy neighbour, but then he buries that worry (after many more pages of being creepy) and decides he needs his beauty sleep.

He has an early job tomorrow; an all day photoshoot as a model for a high end women’s magazine. The day will be long, and though make-up artists can work wonders, his agent will kill him if he shows up with big dark circles under his eyes. Alexander Pearce is one of the best agents in the business, and Bucky’s certain that a lot of his success is down to working under him. 

Unfortunately for Bucky creeping on his neighbour doesn’t exactly count as an excuse for looking like he slept in a dumpster.

*

Seeing Bucky becomes a semi-regular occurrence; when Steve can’t find Libby, she’s always next door in Bucky’s. 

Usually, when he gets home she’s curled up on the sofa or on his bed, but if he leaves his kitchen window open, or if he’s in and out of his apartment all day with the door left ajar, she often finds her way over to Bucky’s.

The handover goes similarly to the first one; Bucky usually wearing something minimal and casual, looking heartbreakingly gorgeous, and barely a sentence or two shared between them.

Steve doesn’t mind it so much. This Bucky guy is a stranger and no one is ever under obligation to be best friends with their neighbours. And yet, there’s always a hope that Bucky will say more than the minimum, or Steve will think up something clever to say and it’ll start up a decent conversation between them. But that never really happens on the balcony. 

He rarely sees Bucky in the building other than that. He’s seen him leaving twice, both times with a pretty brunette who’s always dressed in vintage clothing, both times he gives the smallest of polite nods to Steve and keeps on walking. Bucky and the brunette look good together, cosy and maybe even coupley, and Steve doesn’t really want to admit to himself how disappointed he feels to think that Bucky’s probably spoken for. 

He brings his displeasure to work with him, and ends up talking to Sam about it without meaning to.

“My cat is cheating on me,” Steve says. He and Sam are in the hangout room in the compound after a briefing, and Steve is more thinking out loud than making a statement, but it gets Sam’s attention.

“Oh, yeah? She has another owner? You know when I was a kid my cat used to have another owner. He got real fat ‘cause he was getting fed by two families. Used to come back smelling of cigarette smoke. The running joke was that he worked in a French cafe.”

Steve laughs. “I don’t know if she’s getting fed there, but there’s this guy who lives next door. My cat keeps hopping the wall between the balconies and she hangs out there.”

“You worried she’s going to leave you?”

“Maybe she will. Maybe he’s a better pet owner than I am. Maybe he won’t leave for weeks at a time leaving one of Tony’s employees to check on her,” Steve says sullenly, and then, “she comes home smelling of his cologne.”

Sam laughs. “Man, she’s a cat. Cat’s do as they please.”

Steve knows this, knows that he shouldn’t be taking it so personally. “His cologne is nicer than mine.” And it’s almost to himself again, but he smells it on Libby’s fur when she climbs onto his pillow, when she sits on his chest. It’s a warm, musky and manly smell, something that intrigues Steve more than it should.

Sam looks even more amused this time.

“Is this about more than the guy stealing your cat?” Sam muses.

“He’s not stealing her!”

“But is it more than that?”

“He’s kinda cute,” Steve finally admits, but it’s after a minute of Sam giving him such a look.

“There we go,” Sam says with such satisfaction that Steve throws a pen at him. “You gonna do something about it?”

“Like electronically tag my cat?”

“Like ask this guy out?”

That’s not usually Steve’s strong point, and it never was. Even since the serum, since his body changed, and since now people know who he is, it’s almost worse. People seem to have high expectations of him, like he should be as confident in his personal life as he is on the battlefield, but not so. He’s gone on dates, of course, and he’s asked people out, but more often than not it’s been awkward and uncomfortable and downright awful at times. Bucky is off-the-charts-gorgeous and lives right next door, _and_ he might have a girlfriend, so maybe he’s not the ideal candidate to practice on. 

“Probably not,” he says finally. 

Sam just throws the pen back at him.

 

*

When five minutes of Steve standing on his balcony calling for Libby have passed and no one shows, Steve decides to step things up.

He grabs his keys and heads next door to Bucky’s. He knocks once and waits. Nothing. So he knocks again.

Right when he’s about to give up, there’s the sound of the door being unlocked. And then Bucky is opening the door, standing in front of him, with dripping wet hair, damp skin, glistening tattoos, and wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel knotted around his waist.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says so casually, like he’s not standing almost naked. “Sorry. Shower, you know. Hope you weren’t waiting long. Gimme a minute, I’ll get your cat.”

He opens the door wider and gestures for Steve to come in, and then disappears into his bedroom while Steve stands there feeling ridiculous. He doesn’t want to intrude, doesn’t want to impose. He just wants his cat back so that he knows she’s safe for the night, and he could pick her up and leave - wait, no. He can’t; as he looks towards Bucky’s half open bedroom door he sees Libby slinking inside, meaning he really has to wait for Bucky to get dressed before he can go. Traitor.

Steve stands in Bucky’s open plan kitchen slash living room - a mirror image of Steve’s own - and feels awkward. He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks around. The decor of Bucky’s apartment is pretty minimal, and it’s a lot less full than Steve’s place. Bucky has leather furniture and a single set of book shelves, but the only colour in the room comes from two large prints on the wall. They’re both abstract and vividly coloured paintings, and Steve’s right up close to one of them trying to figure out if it’s painted in oils or acrylics, so he doesn’t hear Bucky behind him until he says, “That one’s my favourite of the two.”

Steve turns around. Bucky is dressed now, but he’s in his usual uniform; sweats and a tank this time, and his wet hair has been pulled into a little knot at the back of his neck. 

“I was just trying to see if I could tell what they’re painted in.”

“Oils.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks. Had ‘em a long time. Got them as payment for my first job.”

Steve crinkles his brow. Who gets paid in beautiful paintings? “As payment?”

“You want something to drink? I don’t have any beer, but herbal tea? Water?”

“Um, herbal tea?” 

Steve watches as Bucky putters around the kitchen, switching on the kettle and opening and closing cupboard doors, fetching mugs and teabags.

“Liquorice tea or green tea with lemon?”

Steve has never had either, he’s more of a black coffee kind of guy. “Liquorice tea?”

Bucky nods and resumes puttering around until he’s walking over to Steve and handing him a steaming mug.

“Thanks,” Steve says and he takes a mug and sits where Bucky gestures to him.

Steve takes a sip and burns his lip. He winces just as Libby jumps up on the sofa beside him.

“So she’s made herself at home, then?”

“Yeah, she’s sweet.” Libby takes that as her cue and walks to the end of the couch before jumping the short distance to the arm of Bucky’s armchair. He scratchers her behind the ear and she closes her eyes like she likes it. “I haven’t been feeding her. I didn’t know if she has some special diet or whatever.”

“That’s fine,” Steve says. “She doesn’t. She’d eat anything you give her. She even eats people food like yogurt and chips if you let her. But I think if you start feeding her she may not come back home.” And though he’s sure Libby can’t understand what he says, she glares at him briefly, then meows and curls up again.

Steve glances around the room again and remembers he was curious about the paintings. “So, did you say you got those paintings as payment?”

“Yeah. My first ever modelling job. It was this tiny designer, fresh out of fashion school. We were both broke, so we came to a deal. She’s doing pretty well for herself these days.”

“You’re a model?” Though looking Bucky up and down, _of course_ he’s a model. “What do you model?”

Bucky’s smile is bigger this time. “Clothes, mostly. I do lot of editorial and high fashion work, some advertisements. I’ll take anything interesting.”

“Wow, that’s --” Steve stops himself because he knows nothing about the fashion industry, but Bucky sounds happy about it, so Steve says, “awesome.”

“I’d ask you what you do, but I already know. ”

“That obvious, huh?” Steve feels a little disappointed. Not that he actually minds, he’d just like a little anonymity sometimes.

“I had no idea until I met you on the balcony, but yeah. I mean, it’s not obvious like you’re walkin’ around with the suit on,” and Steve can’t help but laugh at that, “But there’s not too many built up blonde guys in this building. What made you move here? Thought you’d have some sort of fancy secret superhero lair!”

Steve laughs again. “I moved here to escape the secret superhero lair. Naw, I could have moved into the tower, could have taken a nice place there, but I guess I wanted a little space of my own, you know?”

Bucky nods, and Steve hopes he’s not rambling.

Libby meows, and Steve takes that as his next cue. He takes a couple of big sips from his still-steaming tea even though he’s definitely burned his tongue now.

“Thanks for the tea,” he says. “And thanks for taking care of my cat. If you ever get sick of her letting herself in, just tell me.”

“She’s no bother at all. It’s nice to have some company.”

Bucky sounds so sincere when he says that that Steve momentarily changes his mind and wants to stay, or at least offer for his cat to have a sleepover. But Libby is mewing around his feet now, so he just nods his goodbyes and a moment later he’s back in his own place.

He fixes Libby a bowl of food and another of water and goes to sit in front of the TV while she eats. Soon she hops up onto his lap for her usual after dinner cuddle, and Steve can’t help but sniff her fur when she stretches up to rub to top of her head on his chin. He smells like Bucky’s cologne or shower gel or whatever. It’s foreign to him, a brand he doesn’t know, but it has a pleasant and musky smell.

He has to remind himself that sniffing his cat is super weird and he’s certain that Libby is silently judging him as she curls up in his lap and he resumes flipping through the television stations.

*

As soon as Bucky’s alone again, he’s kicking himself. 

He answered the door to Captain America. While wearing only a towel. Practically naked.

Bucky’s used to people being around him while he’s in various states of undress; that’s part of being a model. He’s changed clothes in front of designers and stylists and makeup artists countless times. It’s no big deal.

But being caught off guard and being so undressed in front of Steve made him feel very naked and vulnerable, and not necessarily in a bad way.

When he opened the door to Steve in a towel, he could have asked Steve to wait outside and it still would have been polite. He could have not answered the door to him to all.

And yet he had a feeling that it would be Steve calling, and he didn’t want to miss out of seeing him.

Bucky could pretend to himself that he felt he had to open the door to Steve because he had to give back the cat, but that would be a lie; he wanted to see Steve.

Bucky sits on his couch and tucks his feet back under himself, his mind reeling through his evening. 

Steve, Bucky’s found out, is cute as a button. He’s adorable in a way that he doesn’t appear when he’s doing any sort of Avenger stuff on TV. Not that Steve really does that much other than very official things, but sometimes he does short interviews or little speeches.

Bucky’s seen him fresh from the fight and covered in cuts and bruises as he explains to waiting media that everything is under control. Bucky’s also seen him make a public address about how we as humans should stand up and do the right thing. There’s also dozens of shots of Steve at charity things, usually children’s hospitals, where he does stellar work and encourages other to do what they can too.

But Steve in real life? Adorable. The little blush in his cheek, the happy little quirk in his voice when he talks about art, the fact that he drank Bucky’s tea when he clearly had no interest in it. All Adorable, and Bucky smiles even now when he thinks about it. 

It’s also incredibly cute to see how Steve is with his cat too. She obviously adores him - as much as cats ever adore humans - and Bucky realises for the first time that his crush on his hot next door neighbour might actually be more than a physical one. These are feelings beyond just the fact that Steve fills out his Captain America uniform and a pair of jeans so well. 

Bucky scrubs his hand over his face and sighs. He hasn’t really been into anyone in a long time - a string of crappy relationships with fellow models put him off, and made him want to stay single for a while.

Not that Bucky really has any chance with someone like Steve. Bucky knows he’s okay looking - or at least he looks good after a team of makeup artists and stylists have had their way with him - but Steve is an actual real life, superhero. Bucky’s just the guy who borrows his cat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More neighbourly flirting. More cat babysitting. More ridiculousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and given feedback so far. You're wonderful <3

The next time that Bucky sees Steve, other than the brief moments of handing a cat across the balcony partition, is in the elevator.

Steve looks good, dressed in slim fitting jeans and a Henley that’s at least one size too small. Bucky feels grossly overdressed considering he’s in a dark suit with an equally dark shirt underneath. He’s clean shaven, freshly showered. It’s his usual _Please hire me_ look that he goes for for almost all castings.

“Morning,” Bucky says, and he gets a warm smile from Steve in return.

“Morning yourself,” Steve says. Bucky has to focus on speaking and breathing and not being weird so that he can shake any impure thoughts from his head, even if Steve looks seriously amazing. 

“You look good. For so early in the morning, I mean,” Steve says, and it takes Bucky by surprise that Steve even noticed, let alone commented. “You always dress like that at this hour?”

“Usually I’d be in sweats, but if I have a casting I have to dress up,” Bucky confesses.

“You look good,” Steve says again. Bucky rarely blushes, but he feels his cheeks heat up, because Steve sounds sincere. 

He laughs it off though. “Thanks. I have to look like I walked out of a men’s magazine if I want men’s magazine to hire me.”

“Makes sense.”

The elevator stops and the doors slide open. Steve steps out first and they walk the short distance to the front door of the building, Steve hesitating just as he sets foot onto the street. Bucky wants to ask Steve to join him for a coffee, and even though they’ve sat in his apartment and drank tea more than once, it feels different.

“So do you drink coffee?” Bucky asks stupidly.

“I sure do.” And to Steve’s credit he doesn’t even laugh in Bucky’s face.

“I have to get a cab right now,” Bucky says, feeling rather brave, “but maybe some time we could get coffee together? My treat? As a thank you for lending me your cat so often?”

Steve laughs, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m sure that I should be thanking you for looking after my cat and not the other way round, but sure. I’d like that.”

Bucky’s thrilled that Steve’s into a coffee date, even if it doesn’t really sound like a date at all, but he has to reign in his grin so he doesn’t look manic. He begins to walk away towards a nearby cab, but he turns and gives Steve a smile, hoping his modeling skills make it come across as charming rather than ecstatic. “We’ll do coffee then.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, but Bucky’s already getting into the waiting car. Bucky feels warm inside over the thoughts of having coffee with Steve. Even if it ends up being just coffee and not a date, spending time together always makes Bucky feel good.

*

Steve enjoys calling over to Bucky’s to collect Liberty more than he cares to admit, and he makes sure he does it whenever he has time to spare, rather than just taking her back over the adjoining balcony wall.

He likes that Bucky almost always invites him in for tea now, and Steve tends to stay until his cup is empty. He enjoys Bucky’s company, and even if Bucky is not always the chattiest of souls he seems happy to have Steve call over, happy to make Steve some tea and share a half hour of conversation with someone.

“So modelling must be all glamour, right?” He feels content and comfy in sweats on Bucky’s couch. 

Bucky smiles ruefully. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you. I mean, it _sounds_ like it would be glamorous. It depends on the day, on the shoot. It can be fun, but rarely glamorous.”

“What about those fancy magazine shoots you said you do? They sure look glamorous.”

Bucky sighs. “Well, last week we shot at this five star hotel.” He gets up and rifles through some papers on the other side of the room and comes back with a handful of glossy photographs. “These are just test shots, one of which I’ll possibly put in my portfolio.”

Steve thumbs through the photographs. Bucky’s standing by a pool in them wearing tiny, navy short-shorts and a white dress shirt that’s hanging open. He’s bronzed and glistening and has a look in his eyes like he’s about to fuck the next thing he sees. There’s a second male model on a pool lounger in dress pants and no shirt, and two female models, one wearing a long evening gown, the other in expensive-looking underwear. It looks like the aftermath of a high-society party. And yes, it sure looks glamourous. Steve says as much and Bucky laughs.

“It was freezing cold outside, and that’s all I was wearing for most of the day. The “glow” I have is this body oil that might look good in photographs but feels like crap on your skin. One of the girls had her period so she was in pain all day and the photographer was a dick to her about it.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

“Look, it’s not a terrible thing. I enjoy my job. At times I love it, but it’s not always all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I get that.”

“You should come by and see some time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiles. “Next time I’m shooting near you I’ll hit you up and you can come by and see how boring it is.”

“I’ve had to have my picture taken, you know.”

Bucky rolls it eyes. “Of course you have, sorry.”

“No, I mean my photoshoots never look like these at the end.”

“No pool shots of Captain America in his undies.”

Steve laughs. “No. Though I’ve been asked. Not sure that Captain America in his underpants would set the right tone.”

Bucky eyes Steve, his gaze travelling the up his body slowly, drinking all of Steve in. “Shame,” he says with a very mischievous grin.

“Well,” Steve says, squirming a little under Bucky’s gaze, his cheeks heating up, “maybe I just haven’t been pitched the right shoot.”

“Maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll find a photographer that’ll convince you to do it.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Steve says, “But, maybe.” There’s a warmth in Bucky’s laugh, a flirt in his tone that makes Steve feel reckless, like he’d agree to a half naked photoshoot if Bucky was in it too, or _god_ if Bucky was the one behind the camera.

They’ve flirted before, danced around each other plenty. There’s a playful banter that could be more than just friends shooting the shit, but Steve is never really sure. He’s no good at this stuff.

Bucky did ask him for coffee, but they never managed to go for that coffee date, whether it was a _date_ or not.

Steve wusses out again. He wonders would the world see him as heroic if they only knew that he breaks out into sweat at the sheer thought of asking a boy out on a date. He just lets himself enjoy Bucky’s flirting and keeps any notions of dating to himself lest he ruin everything and lose the first non-Avenger friend he’s had in years.

*

Bucky has six missed calls from a number he doesn’t know.

He’s been shooting all morning and he’s caked in makeup and hairspray. He’s standing half naked in the makeshift wardrobe area of a big, old house, and it’s the first chance he’s had to look at his phone since he arrived at the shoot four hours ago.

Like anyone who has six calls from a number he doesn’t know, he panics a little. Six missed calls means that someone was really trying to get hold of him. What if something is seriously wrong? 

His brain is mid-way through a whole range of catastrophes when his phone rings again, vibrating in his hand, and his stomach drops as he answers it.

“Bucky?”

“Steve? Is something wrong?” Something sure sounds wrong. Steve sounds like he’s shouting over background noise.

“No. Well, yes. I mean, there’s aliens..but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m gonna be out of town for a couple days. Probably more than a couple days.” 

Bucky’s brain is still stuck somewhere around the _aliens_ part, but he manages an, “Uh huh.”

“Can you take care of Liberty while I’m gone? Please?”

“Of course. Of course I’ll take care of her.” He pauses, no clue what to say to someone who’s on his way to fight for the good of the whole planet. “Take care of yourself, Steve, okay? If you get injured I’ll be really mad at you.”

Steve laughs. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Relief washes over Bucky that it’s not something more than that, that Steve’s okay, though if Steve is away fighting _aliens_ then Bucky’s going to worry until he’s home. But then the line is dead and Bucky’s left standing in his underwear, unable to remember what he’s supposed to wear for the next set of shots.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky takes a second to answer, shaking himself back to the present. It’s Peggy, and she’s looking at him with concern.

“Yes and no,” he decides. He stashes his phone away again and picks up the navy pants that Peggy’s pointing to. He’s always grateful for her help, and he loves the way she can usually pick up on his mood. She cocks an eyebrow in question, so he decides to elaborate. “So, you know that guy who lives next door to me?”

“The hottie with the cat?”

“Yeah, the hottie with the cat,” Bucky laughs, because that’s a fairly concise description. “It’s kinda hard to explain, but he has a pretty dangerous job, and he has to travel for it. A lot. And he just called me to say he’d be out of town and can I take care of his cat.”

“How did the hottie with the cat get your number?”

“He has a lot of resources at his disposal.” 

When Peggy gives him a questioning look, he figures he can explain better in a better way. He pulls out his phone and Googles a photograph of Steve is full _Captain America_ uniform. 

“I see,” Peggy says when she gets a good look. “You could have just said, you know.”

“I felt a little silly admitting that I’ve a crush on Steve Rogers.”

“Like the rest of the country doesn’t?” she says. “Right, so your neighbour is a hottie with a cat and he’s also a national icon with super powers. So, what’s the problem?”

“He’s been called off on a mission and he asked me to take care of his cat, and it’s not that I mind cat sitting, it’s just that _he’s been called off on a mission_ , like he actually mentioned aliens. It’s a little crazy. Plus I’ll fucking worry about him, you know.”

“Okay, yes that is a pickle,” she says, her reserved English-ness making her so very unflappable. Bucky loves her for it; she’s always been wonderful in a crisis. “Well, for now, seeing as you can’t possibly help him with his alien situation, why don’t you go and distract yourself by being devastatingly handsome.” She pulls a powder compact and a large, fluffy brush out of her make-up belt and begins to sweep it over Bucky’s face. It’s something he’s well used to, and it makes him stay still. “Stop frowning, it’s giving you wrinkles, and you know that they’ll be ghastly to photoshop away. From what I know of Steve Rogers, he’s a brave man who does his best to help those in need. I know you’ll worry, but perhaps when he comes back in one piece, you’ll appreciate him a bit more and maybe turn that boy next door into a boyfriend next door?”

“Maybe,” he says, already feeling a little better about the whole situation. Peggy has that effect on people.

“Now hop it, Barnes. We can talk about the rest later, okay?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “Thanks Pegs. Not sure what I’d do without you.”

Bucky does, of course, take care of Liberty. When he gets home that evening there’s been a key pushed under his door that it turns out is for Steve’s apartment.

Bucky has no idea how Steve arranged that but then again Steve is Captain America so he can probably arrange a lot of things from the battlefield.

Bucky lets himself into Steve’s apartment and absolutely does not spend at least five minutes berating himself for thinking that he could totally go rooting through Steve’s closet to see if he has any amazing secrets in there. 

Bucky is here for a reason and Steve’s his friend, and even if curiosity is normal, Bucky won’t stoop that low.

He gathers up some of Liberty’s things - her bed, her littler box, a handful of squeaky and jingly toys and brings them back to his place. Then he returns for Liberty, and she only puts up a half hearted fight at being picked up. She’s just being a stubborn cat and backs herself under a chair every time Bucky tries to grab her. Eventually Bucky gets his hand around her middle and scoops her up, much to her annoyance. 

She settles in well at Bucky’s; she’s used to being there, after all. But Bucky feels a little weird about her being around because every time she hops into his lap or purrs in his face, he thinks about Steve off somewhere on a mission, and he worries.

There’s been nothing on any news site about aliens, so Bucky decides that it’s at least not a world-wide crisis, or even a city-wide one like the whole New York incident. But Bucky still worries.

He realises a day and a half into cat-sitting that he has Steve’s number and he could text and check that Steve is okay.

It’s a long shot, but he types out a quick message of _she misses you, I swear_ and attaches a photo of Libby sprawled out on the sofa, on her back with her fluffy tummy on show. She looks perfectly happy.

Bucky doesn’t get a reply, and he kicks himself, because of course Steve isn’t going to reply. He’s on a mission, in peril and fighting aliens apparently, and who knows if that is even his phone number, let alone that he might time or inclination to reply to his neighbour?

It’s a whole day later when Bucky gets a reply.

 _She sure looks like she misses me!_ the text reads.

Bucky grins and grins. 

_it’s all in her body language. How’s saving the world goin’?_ Bucky winces at how casually he asks it because it, but thankfully Steve replies again.

_long and exhausting. Home in a couple days. Hopefully. See you then._

Bucky feels stupid for being so happy over a simple text but he’s super fucking happy. 

“Steve text back,” he sells Libby, who just blinks at him lazily. “And he’ll be back in a couple days.” He cards his fingers through her thick fluff, and she still doesn’t react, just lying there like the fluffy, lazy thing she is. “ So that means you’ll be moving back to your real home, with your real Dad. And I know you’ll be real sad to leave my coffee table behind - the one that you’ve so lovingly decorated with claw marks - but it means we get to see Steve again soon.”

She blinks at him, and closes her eyes blissfully when he gives her a good scratch under her chin.

He laughs at her happy little expression. “Yeah, I’m kinda that happy too. And don’t judge me, cat. Not fair. Steve’s awesome, and we might be just friends, and I might just be his cat sitter, but I like hanging out with him. Okay, I really like hanging out with him. I know you get that.”

Liberty stretches and rolls onto her back again, showing Bucky her tummy. He scritches it because no one could resist that belly.

“You think I could get Steve to do this to me?” Bucky asks. The cat eyes Bucky as he scratches her. “Yeah, okay. You can stop judging me, kitty. We both know that Steve must give top notch belly rubs, I’ll just never find out how good. You can let me know though, okay? Cool.”

*

Bucky’s fit for bed - he’s had a long day of outdoor shooting with a really difficult photographic director and makeup that’s dried his skin to hell. Then he hit the gym for a grueling session, pushing himself a little harder than usual just to work off the stresses of the day.

He’s now showered and fed and sitting on his couch in sweats. Liberty is curled up in his lap and he’s marathoning Brooklyn 99 to put an amusing end to a tough day, when there’s a knock at his door.

Bucky’s heart skips a beat even though he doesn’t yet know who’s at the door, and he has to scoop Libby off his lap when he gets up. She glares at him as he walks to the door.

It’s Steve. He looks tired and he has bruises on his cheek and a split lip, but it’s Steve; he’s here and safe and no longer fighting aliens. 

“You’re back! I mean obviously you’re back. Are you okay? Wana come in?”

“Hey, thanks.”

Steve comes inside and Bucky can’t help but notice the stiffness in Steve’s movements, moreso when he sits on Bucky’s couch to pet Liberty. 

Bucky frowns but doesn’t say anything just yet; he’s too busy silently cooing over how cute Steve looks petting the cat.

“So, you’re back from saving the world?”

“Yep. Thanks for taking care of my cat.”

Steve shifts around to face Bucky and winces as he does. 

“No prob, man,” Bucky says. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve gives Bucky a small smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just..battle scars, I guess. I heal quick. I’ll be fine. Just tired.” 

“You sure?” Because Steve looks a little battered emotionally as well as physically.

“You should see the other guy,” Steve says, and there’s a little sparkle in his eyes which is enough assurance for Bucky that Steve is okay.

“You feel like stayin’ for a while to hang out?”

It comes out before Bucky can stop it. He knows Steve must be exhausted and it’s late, but he’s missed Steve’s company so he doesn’t regret it. Even less so when Steve gives Bucky a tired smile and nods.

Bucky leaves Brooklyn 99 on as background noise and soon Liberty has planted herself between them on the sofa. Bucky asks Steve some questions about his mission without trying to pry. Steve is a little sketchy with the details and Bucky assumes that Steve is probably not supposed to tell stories about his adventures anyway.

There’s a break in the conversation so Bucky keeps his eye on the TV, shy that he’s spending time with Steve again, sitting so close. As silly as it seems seeing as there’s nothing other than friendship between them, their time apart has made Bucky appreciate them hanging out together even more.

He glances over at Steve and instead of seeing Steve watching television too, Steve’s eyes are closed, his mouth slack. He’s fallen asleep watching TV and Bucky’s heart hurts with how beautiful he looks, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, lush lips parted, even if the bottom lip is split open and swollen. 

Steve makes a soft little sigh in his sleep and Bucky’s sure that he should wake him so that he can sleep in a bed, in his own bed, but he looks too peaceful. So instead, Bucky takes the soft, wooly throw that he cuddles under while watching horror movies alone, and he spreads it over Steve’s legs and belly, and _god_ does Bucky want to get right in under the blanket with him, but he pads off to bed leaving Steve fucking Rogers asleep on his couch, just to toss and turn and over analyse everything for hours before falling asleep.

*

When Steve pries his eyes open to find Liberty sitting square on his chest, he also remembers that he’s not in his own house, he’s not even on the Quinjet or any other ridiculous place he grabbed forty winks while away on his mission. 

He blinks blearily when he sees Bucky standing in the kitchen.

“Wow,” Steve says, “I’m only back in New York for twelve hours and I’m already outstaying my welcome.”

Bucky startles but then gives Steve an ever-so-adorable smile. “Morning. Didn’t wanna wake you. Though on second thoughts maybe my couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep.”

“It’s like a king sized feather bed compared to some places I’ve slept,” Steve says, and it’s actually true. Bucky’s couch is plenty comfy, though Steve was so exhausted that he probably would have slept on a park bench and not minded.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, I’d love some. Thought you were more into tea?”

“Tea is for when I have photo shoots, when I’m trying to eat super clean and healthy. Makes my skin look better in photographs.” Steve briefly thinks that Bucky’s skin could never look anything but amazing. “But I keep coffee for when I’m not working and when I stay up too late, keeping my very tired super hero neighbour awake too.”

“I’ll drink coffee all day, but it doesn’t really work the same way it used to.”

Bucky just blinks at him. 

“The serum. What made me...the way I am. I metabolise everything pretty quickly. Means I heal quickly too - I’m betting my bruises look a lot better today. Coffee doesn’t give me a kick these days.”

“Fuck. That sucks! I mean, kudos on the magical powers and all that, but I need caffeine!”

Steve laughs because he can’t help it. 

Bucky laughs too as he pours Steve a large mug of black coffee. “Look at how good this looks. Rich and dark and so good. It’s gonna perk me right up!” He smirks and drops his voice low like he’s trying to be seductive about a cup of coffee and Steve just laughs harder.

“You’re a punk!”

“You know I am, jerk!”

Steve necks his coffee pretty quickly, not that it makes any difference, it just feels normal and mundane, and after the week Steve’s had, mundane is pretty appealing.

He makes sure not to overstay his welcome, and as much as Bucky assures him that he’s welcome anytime, and as much as he really wants to hang out with Bucky, he makes an exit shortly after his second mug of coffee.

Bucky helps him move Liberty’s things back to where they came from, and Liberty is happy to be carried next door in Bucky’s arms. Then Bucky’s gone and Steve’s alone.

While he was away, while he was so busy fighting, he thought about Bucky quite a lot. A lot more than he thought he would, really. And a lot more than a normal person would think about their neighbour.

Steve even tried to write it off as a crush, as the pretty guy next door, and that that was the only reason Bucky was in his head. But Bucky’s still in his head, and more than ever. Waking up on Bucky’s couch and seeing Bucky standing in the kitchen making coffee was a tiny burst of domestic life that Steve almost thought as a dream.

Steve knows now that he’s been slowly falling for Bucky, that the looks and blushing and flirting have been building towards this. He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this before, and certainly not since before the war, since before he went in the ice. Bucky feels like an old soul; so easy going and so on Steve’s wavelength that he can’t believe they’ve ended up living next door to one another.

He’s not sure that anything will come from it, that Bucky’s interested, or would ever want to date Steve with all his super-serum-coated baggage. 

Steve wants to be hopeful that maybe it could happen, that maybe if he kissed Bucky that Bucky might kiss him back. He wants to think that Bucky wouldn’t be scared away by Steve’s ridiculous lifestyle full of monsters and death and everything that comes with it.

He wants to be hopeful, but it’s hard. 

Bucky’s important to Steve and because of that Steve only wants the best for him. Steve can’t help but think that maybe Bucky’s best without the things that come with having Steve in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets some gentle pushing from Sam, finds a Bucky on his balcony and might even have the courage to ask Bucky on a coffee date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all from Steve's point of view. I am really loving that you guys are enjoying this so thank you for reading and giving feedback. I'm incredibly grateful <3

Steve’s in the gym with Sam. It’s unofficial training, the sort that’s more for Sam’s benefit that for Steve’s. Steve really enjoys these sessions though.

Most of the time they are actually training together or sparring, but there’s some conversation too; the last mission, Tony’s latest ridiculous ideas, where to grab a bite to eat after. Today Sam seems to have other topics of conversation to cover.

Sam’s hands are wrapped in boxing wraps and Steve holds the punch bag while Sam does some boxing training.

“So,” Sam breathes as he strikes the bag with a jab-uppercut combo, “That cat of yours still cheating on you?”

Steve tries really hard not to sigh because he knows where Sam is going with this and he knows it’s his own fault.

“She’s still wandering off, yeah,” Steve replies.

“She’s wandering off to visit this cute guy you mentioned?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I guess.”

“So have you talked to him much?”

Sam takes a couple more hits to the bag, so Steve waits until he’s finished before he answers, grateful for the extra second to collect his thoughts.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. He often invites me in for tea.”

“That’s a start,” Sam says. “What else?”

“What else, what?” Steve says, a little sullenly. Deep down he feels a little defensive because he doesn’t normally talk about people he likes, well, because he hasn’t actually liked someone in a real long time.

“Do you talk? What’s his name? What does he do?”

“Yes, we talk. About all sorts of things. His name’s Bucky, and uh, he’s a model.”

That’s like winning the jackpot for Sam because he’s enough details to ask even more.

“A model. Wow, Steve. Like a fashion model?”

“I guess,” Steve replies, reluctant to give details away just yet. He doesn’t want to dilute the way he feels. Not that Sam would ruin it, more the opposite; that he would wholeheartedly encourage Steve to pursue Bucky, and yeah, Steve’s not sure he’s ready for that.

“You know, there can’t be that many models named Bucky. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m pretty sure that if Natasha finds out - and she will - she’ll google him, do background checks, the works.”

“Oh, God.”

Sam chuckles and begins to unwrap his hands, signaling the end of today’s session. 

“Look, man. I’m just teasing. But if you’re hanging out with this guy, and you like him like you seem to, then that’s great. If you get any vibes from him, run with them. Ask him out, see where it goes.”

Steve’s not sure what to say, not sure if he should protest, agree or just ask Sam to mind his own business. He opts for none of the above by just making an unintelligible noise.

“Can we change the subject,” Steve asks, hoping and hoping.

“Yeah, hit the showers and we can get some lunch?”

If that means avoiding talking about his crush on Bucky Barnes, that feels like a win.

*

After a lot of badgering on Steve’s behalf and a promise to dig out some some wartime photos in exchange, Bucky agrees to show Steve his lookbook, the one he uses to book jobs. 

Bucky’s obviously shy about showing Steve, but Steve is curious as hell. He’s seen a handful of shots of Bucky - ones that Bucky showed him, and ones that Natasha googled, much to Steve’s protesting.

Steve didn’t go looking for any photographs of Bucky himself, wanting Bucky to be the one to do that.

Bucky looks a little on the reluctant side to hand over the book, but Steve takes it anyway. 

As soon as Steve opens the heavy black cover of the book, as soon as he sees the first image, he can see why Bucky might be in such demand.

Steve flips silently through the photographs while Bucky hovers behind him. Bucky looks shy, but Steve can’t see why he should feel anything but proud of these pictures. It’s a little overwhelming to see Bucky is so many different ways; Bucky dressed immaculately in suits, Bucky in casual clothes, Bucky looking glossy and perfect. There’s a series of images of Bucky with his shirt wide open, a smattering of dark hair covering his perfect chest, images of Bucky with smouldering eyes, like he’s challenging the photographer to either fight him or fuck him. 

There’s an image of Bucky so beautiful that Steve’s mouth goes dry at the sight; Bucky’s wearing just dark denims, square jaw set in determination, eyes dark and wanting. The image opposite is obviously from the same shoot, but Bucky’s smiling wide, his blue eyes dancing with mischief, his body language so very inviting.

There’s black and white headshots that show the perfect smoothness of Bucky’s skin, his hair glossy and thick. 

There’s casual shots of him in jeans and a t-shirt, the cotton clinging to curves and angles. There’s shirtless shots, some of Bucky in just his underwear.

Steve glances through a series of high fashion shots of Bucky looking delectable wearing a dark suit, his hair slicked back into a low bun, his jaw dark with stubble. It’s mostly solo shots, but he’s included some with other models, male and female, and Steve’s totally not bias but Bucky commands the attention in all of them.

He looks every inch the male model in all of the photographs, and he’s certainly able to look diverse. Steve takes his time to look through almost all of the pages, not wanting to miss any of the shots, any of the images.

It’s one thing knowing Bucky is a model and seeing him looking so damn good all the time in his normal life. It’s another seeing him dressed up like this, photographed so perfectly, groomed so well. 

He glances up at Bucky through his lashes; Bucky’s now got his phone in his hand and his brow is furrowed as he studies it, obviously trying not to watch Steve check out his portfolio. Bucky’s currently wearing his usual sweatpants and a tank top, and Steve can’t help but think he looks just as stunning as he does in those glossy, high-end fashion shots.

Steve closes the book and stares at Bucky, wanting to say how utterly beautiful Bucky is, and how stunning the photographs are. He wants to tell Bucky that seeing him like this gives him serious butterflies, but of course he keeps his mouth shut.

“Thank you for showing me these, Bucky,” Steve says, because he can’t think of anything else to say that won’t involve him gushing over how utterly gorgeous Bucky looks. “I can see why you’re so successful.”

“Thank you.” 

The sincerity in Bucky’s voice tugs on something in Steve’s chest. He can tell that Bucky doesn’t often believe in his win success, his own competency, like the only reason he’s booked so many jobs is sheer luck.

Steve might not know much about the modelling industry or about fashion in general, but what he knows is Bucky looks damn perfect and his charisma could sell anything, not least beautiful clothing.

“I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says again. He looks shy but genuinely happy. “More tea?”

Steve looks at his half empty mug that’s now getting cold and nods. He watches Bucky head to the little kitchen and follows him over. 

“So what made you become a model?” Steve ventures.

“You know, I’ve been asked that before, and I don’t have an answer. I had a friend who did some modelling and spoke highly of it, I also had a friend who need a model for some photos. Then those photos got spotted by an agency, and it all sort of happened.”

“So you didn’t set out to be one?”

“Not really? I’m not sure if anyone does. It’s a good life, you know. I do okay, I can put a roof over my head and still have enough left at the end of the month to save. I get a ton of free clothes. I met my best friend on a shoot - Peggy, she’s a makeup artist, you may have seen her in the building. She’s amazing, I’ve worked with her so much and it makes my day when we end up on the same shoot together.”

 _Oh_ , so the girl that Steve has seen Bucky with is his friend. Not his girlfriend. Right. 

“And the tattoos?” Steve asks indicating to Bucky’s sleeve.

“Had them a while now. I started off as just a little one, and I liked the idea of the biomechanical designs, like an artificial limb, you know. So as most people with tattoos know, they’re pretty addictive so it ended up as a full sleeve.”

“It’s awesome. There’s so much detail in it.”

Steve peers closer, and Bucky leans closer too. There’s intricate details on the tattoo that make it look like metal plates and circuits, electronics and gears. Steve’s impressed.

“Thanks. I don’t know that I actually do want a metal arm, you know, but I like my sleeve.” He rubs his hand over his forearm absently. “So, I mean, I have the same question for you I guess. Why do you do what you do.”

Steve knew the question was coming at some point. He’s used to it. Apart from people asking about what he eats and how he works out, it might be the most common question asked by interviewers. He leans against the countertop as he thinks of a way to answer it that will explain things properly, and in a way that won’t scare Bucky. He watches as Bucky sits himself up on top of the kitchen counter so that his legs dangle. 

“When I signed up, I just thought that I had to do what I could. Everyone was enlisting and really I just wanted to do my part. The rest, well, when I got the serum, when I became strong...I can do things that others can’t, and if I can protect people, then I should. Someone needs to stand up for the little guy, fight for people who can’t fight. Someone needs to stand up to bullies.”

Bucky looks at him, and Steve feels a little uncomfortable because Bucky looks like he’s in awe. Steve’s never been good at accepting praise. 

“Well, speaking for us little guys, thank you. I certainly appreciate it. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”

And because Steve thinks the atmosphere is getting a little too sombre, because he doesn’t want to get into the nitty gritty of what he has to do on a bad day, he says, “Well, it makes me appreciate my days off, I’ll say that for sure.”

“I’ll bet.”

Steve’s second cup of tea is empty now, so he decides to take his leave.

“I should feed this one,” he says, picking up Liberty from the kitchen counter. She settles into his arms as he pets her under the chin. Bucky joins in the petting, smoothing her fur on top of her head and down the back of her neck. Their fingers touch ever so briefly, just a tiny second of contact. Bucky freezes and Steve’s gaze flickers to his face; he’s still staring at the cat, not at Steve. Steve clears his throat to break the silence and smiles at Bucky as he goes home.

It’s not the first time their fingers have touched - it’s happened plenty of times handing over Liberty or mugs or whatever, and every time Steve gets a little bolt of lighting, a tiny spark of excitement from it.

It makes think think about touching Bucky in other ways - and no, not just sex, but the gentle intimate touching that Steve craves. Steve wants to pet Bucky’s hair, card his fingers through it until Bucky relaxes under his hands, to hold him close until he falls asleep. Yes, an accidental touch is completely innocent and innocuous, but it makes Steve realise that pretty much the only physical contact he currently has in his life is fighting. 

 

*

Steve looks at Bucky through the glass door, bemused, and it takes him far to long to get out of his seat and open the door for him.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks.

“Of course,” Steve says. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-- thanks. I just wanted to hang out if that’s okay,” he says. He looks down on himself, dark shadows under his eyes that make him look older than his years. 

“Yeah, But I gotta warn you that the last guy that tried to come into my apartment through that door unannounced got a shield thrown at him.”

Bucky scratches his head adorably. “Right. Superhero. Used to surprise attacks. I’ll use the front door next time.”

Steve just laughs at him and Bucky flops down on the couch like he’s been there a thousand times.

After Steve has made them tea - yes, he went out and bought a selection of teas after trying some in Bucky’s place, much to Sam’s amusement - Steve puts on his best Captain America voice and says, “Everyone has tough days. Want to talk about it?”

Bucky smiles into his mug. 

“It’s nothing. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Then be ridiculous!”

Bucky smiles again, a little wider this time. “It’s just -- I love what I do, but some days are just -- I’m a goddamn person, and there’s some designers or photographers, art directors, whatever, that just treat models like objects.”

Steve says nothing. He knows what it’s like to be treated like a thing, though in his case, he’s usually treated like a weapon.

“It’s like this,” Bucky continues, “I can be the best model, the most suited for a shoot or a campaign, in the best shape of my life, and there’s still gonna be some little asshole who comes in and thinks i’m just the filth that walked in off the street, unable to do anything but stand there and be useless. I work hard, you know. I try hard. I’ve given up a lot for this industry, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. 

Bucky just blinks at Steve.

“Please, god, don’t be sorry. Like I said, I’m being ridiculous. I’m here complaining that some asshole said my abs could be leaner and I shouldn’t look so dead in the eyes, and I’m complaining a guy who has much more to deal with than I do.”

Steve shrugs. “Just because someone has bigger problems or different problems, doesn’t mean you can’t vent about your day. And seriously, he said you look dead?”

“He said, ‘Stop squinting, it makes you look dead inside.’ Then he hit on me.” Steve feels his anger rising, a hot ball in his chest. No one should be treated like that, but Bucky just shrugs as he continues. “I spoke with my agent, and I’m tied into working with this douche again.”

Steve feels rage. How could anyone expected to work in those sort of conditions.

“And you can’t get out of it or break contract?” Steve asks.

“Nope.” Bucky shrugs, looking a little resigned. Steve’s heart break for him. Bucky deserves better. “It’s not for a couple weeks so I don’t have to deal with him until then.”

“And after that?”

“After that he can kiss my ass if he thinks I’m ever working with him again.”

Steve wants to say that Bucky’s agent seems like a douchebag too, that someone should be standing up for Bucky. Things might have changed since this forties, and Steve is still catching up, but he’s fairly sure sexual harassment in the workplace is not allowed whatsoever. He doesn’t say as much, though. Bucky seems to have cheered up a little and Steve doesn’t want that to change.

“What an jerk.” Steve has so much more to say on the subject, and he’d pay this asshole a visit on Bucky’s behalf if he knew where to look. 

“Right?” Bucky says, and he looks like he’s cheering up a little. 

Steve wants to say that Bucky has beautiful eyes, but he keeps that to himself. 

After their tea, Steve offers Bucky a beer and to Steve’s surprise, Bucky accepts it.

They clink the bottlenecks as Steve settles on the other end of the couch. He tucks his foot up under himself as he tries to relax. Bucky still doesn’t look as relaxed as Steve would like, holding his beer bottle in both hands, shoulders slumped and head down, but as Steve starts off some aimless conversation about his day, Bucky’s posture begins to soften, and eventually Steve even gets one of those devastating smiles from him.

By the time they’re into their second beers, Bucky’s calm and chilled out and he has his feet up on Steve’s coffee table, which endears him to Steve more than it ought to. 

“I haven’t had a beer in a long time,” he says, draining the bottle. “Haven’t had a lot of things in a long time. Like junk food.” Bucky looks wistful when he says it, like he’s thinking of a long lost friend.

“Nothing?”

“Not really. I sometimes sneak little treats like muffins with my coffee or whatever, but I haven’t had proper junk food like pizza or chocolate in a long time.”

“But..why? You’re fit and you clearly work out. You’ve no body fat whatsoever. Surely some junk food every now and then wouldn’t make any difference. Even athletes have cheat days.”

“Yeah, well. I work out a lot, and I’d try to eat pretty healthy, but I tend to keep to a very clean diet. It makes my skin look better, keeps me leaner. You’ve no idea how competitive it is in the industry. If I have a blowout weekend and go to a casting looking bloated, I’ll lose the job for sure. If my skin breaks out, there’s only so much that they can do to fix it without having to photoshop my entire face. I just - i miss it sometimes. I miss the freedom of making my own food choices.”

“Well, not to be a bad influence, but any time you want to grab a pizza, let me know.”

“I want pizza.” Bucky looks positively gleeful as he says it.

“Sure! Oh, wait. Do you mean now?”

“Yes. And ice cream.”

Steve grins, and though he knows he’s leading Bucky astray, he pulls his phone out of his hoody pocket and orders them pizzas and ice cream, just like Bucky wants.

Bucky’s downed another beer by the time the pizza arrives and he looks utterly thrilled to shovel molten cheese and pepperoni into his mouth. 

Steve loves seeing Bucky so happy over something so simple, but he still feels kinda bad considering his metabolism means that he could eat five of these huge pizzas and never have to worry about gaining weight or anything like that.

“If you feel like burning off some calories,” Steve says around a mouthful of mozzarella, “You can swing by the tower. We got a full gym, you know. You could come hang out?”

Bucky nods with a similarly full mouth. “Manks,” he mumbles. “Will do.”

Steve can think of plenty of other way that Bucky could burn off calories but he keeps his dirty mind and dirtier thoughts to himself. 

By the time Steve realises it’s late, they’ve talked about so much, from Steve telling stories about his work, about Libby, to Bucky divulging details of just how ridiculous some of his photoshoots have been, from comparing workouts, to discussing all of the junk food Bucky wants to eat it it didn’t mean hours in the gym to balance out the unhealthiness. 

By the time Steve glances at the clock and realises that it’s heading for three in the morning, he’s come to conclusions two things.

Firstly, he has to be up in roughly three hours, and even considering the fact that he needs a lot less sleep than Bucky, he’s pretty much fucked for his meeting with Fury tomorrow.

Secondly, he is falling utterly in love with Bucky, so he’s pretty much fucked in that department now too. 

He could have kept pretending to himself that this is just a crush on his hot neighbour. He could continued to think of Bucky solely as his very attractive friend. He could kid himself into thinking the butterflies he gets when his hand brushes Bucky’s each time they do a handover with Libby are all in his imagination.

He could have done all of this, if it hadn’t have been for this evening and the way Bucky positively glows over something as simple as pizza and beers. 

He knows now, as Bucky necks his final beer, head tipped back and eyes softly closed, his hair falling down his back as he does, that his feelings are much, much more than any of that.

He catches himself staring at Bucky, and decides enough is enough. 

“It’s late Bucky. I gotta be up for an early meeting.”

“You mean they don’t schedule superhero meetings for respectable hours of the day like midday or something?”

“Sadly not this one.”

Bucky looks almost put out at the thought of having to go. 

“I’d offer you my sofa, but I know you don’t have a long ride home.”

Bucky smiles that gorgeous smile of his. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll find my way.”

He gets up slowly, careful to dislodge Libby from his lap as gently as possible. As soon as he’s standing, she curls up on the warm spot he leaves on the couch. 

“So we still have to get that coffee some morning,” Steve says, and early morning be damned; he doesn’t want Bucky to go.

“Yeah, we do. How ‘bout Saturday?”

“Saturday works for me.” Steve is about to say _It’s a date!_ but he manages to contain himself, because he knows it’s not a date - how could it be.

He says goodbye to Bucky and crawls into bed, exhausted and happy and so in love it hurts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There’s a long beat of silence where neither of them move and Bucky’s just standing there with a big stupid grin on his face and his chest heaving from laughing. He’s so close and Steve wants so badly to touch him, to kiss him, to gather him into his arms and carry him to bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real world is currently kicking my ass, but the boys might finally be getting some action, so here ya go!
> 
> Thank you so very much to anyone who is reading along. You're amazing <333
> 
> Thanks to TearCatcher for reading this over and reminding me that this needed a little bit more foreplay ;)

_Thrilled_ is gross understatement for how Bucky feels when Steve asks him for coffee. _Elated_ doesn’t quite cut it either. He’s not sure _exactly_ how he feels but he’s giddy and giggly and he’s like a kid waiting for Christmas when he sees Peggy the next day.

“Barnes, did you get a shag off your neighbour?” she asks, eying him. They’re standing in the queue in his local Starbucks.

“Sshh.” Because the last thing he wants is people overhearing them, especially seeing as this is also Steve’s local Starbucks. “No. I didn’t.”

“Hmm,” she says, giving him the once over, “but you’ve got dark circles like you didn’t get much sleep, but a rosy flush in your cheeks like you’re incredibly happy. Those are usual telltale signs of getting a really good shag.”

“No. Definitely not that,” Bucky says, though the thought is a really, really nice one. He turns her in the queue so that she’s now facing the barista and can place her order.

“Well what is it then?”

“‘S nothing,” he lies.

She makes a face at him, one that conveys that she knows he’s completely lying.

Only when they’re clear of Starbucks and wandering down the street does Bucky answer her question. 

“He asked me to meet him for coffee. My neighbour. Steve, I mean.”

“But didn’t you ask him for coffee already?”

“Yes! But, Pegs, he asked for coffee _this Saturday_ , so it’s an actual time and date rather than some hypothetical, mythical coffee date that may never happen. We’re going for coffee.”

She smiles wide at him. “I’m very pleased for you, Bucky. This is wonderful news. So where is this boy taking you on your date?”

Bucky grimaces. “I don’t know if it’s an actual date. Peggy, I know i’m an idiot, but I have it bad for him. And I don’t know if it’s a date, but it feels like it might be one, and I really want it to be one. But considering he’s a motherfucking superhero, if he only dates other superheroes and I’m just his dumb neighbour, I’ll still take it. I’d prefer to be friends than nothing at all.”

“Bucky…”

“I know, I know. Sounds pathetic, right?”

“No, it doesn’t. It sounds like you’re friends and you want him to be happy no matter what. But I think you’ve a good a chance as any to get a date with Captain America. Why not?”

He grins at her, but then something dawns on him and the smile drops off his face.

“What do I wear? What the hell do I wear for a maybe-a-friend-date-maybe-a-real-date with someone like Steve?” He has a wardrobe brimming with clothes of all manners, from designer suits to the sweatpants.

“What do you usually wear when you hang out with him and his cat?”

Bucky laughs. “Sweats and t-shirts. The least formal clothing ever. I’ve worn pajama pants in front of him too, Jesus.”

“So pretty much anything is going to be fine then. There’s no preconceptions, no airs and graces. What would you wear on a coffee date with me?”

Bucky looks down at himself and he’s dressed like a slob in jeans and a hoody. “I look like it’s laundry day,” he says and rolls his eyes.

Peggy laughs at him and slaps him good naturedly on the back. 

“You do. Okay, look. If you’re asking for my advice I would say jeans and something that shows off what great shape you’re in, like a Henley or a white t-shirt. Tie your hair up. Skip shaving for a day to get that designer stubble that looks so good on you. Then go get him. See if you can read the signs, and if you’re getting the right vibes from him then go for it. You don’t have to be a superhero to deserve happiness.”

Bucky feels a warmth from Peggy’s words. She’s wonderful and he owes her so much for her pep talks. That doesn’t stop him from dragging her shopping with him and asking her opinion while he tries on approximately one hundred pairs of almost identical jeans.

He worries, frets, gets excited and flails, all in equal measures over the next couple of days. 

He thinks about the evening he spent with Steve, on Steve’s couch, and the ease with which they hung out together. Bucky accidentally vented a whole pile of things that he usually keeps for Peggy because she knows the hardships he sometimes has like never really letting himself over indulge. But with Steve it felt easy and natural like they do it all the time, and Bucky really could get used to it. 

After a couple of the beers Steve had offered him, he’d felt ever so slightly tipsy and a little voice in his head wanted to confess that he liked Steve, that he wanted them to be more than neighbours. But Bucky’s been down that road before, and nothing is worse than the fear of waking up after drinking filled to the brim with the regret an alcohol-loosened tongue can provide.

On the morning of his coffee date with Steve, still not sure if this is a friend-date or a romantic one, he changes his clothes three times, before taking Peggy’s advice and wearing skinny dark denims and a washed-out navy Henley.

He might be nervous and excited and scared as hell, but at least he’s comfortable.

*

“Ready?”

Bucky’s standing in Steve’s doorway, leaning against the doorframe, looking happy and relaxed. He’s dressed in skinny jeans, a form-fitting Henely and hoody. He’s got his usual designer stubble and as ever, his hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. He absolutely looks divine.

“I am. Where are you taking me?” Steve asks.

Steve grabs a baseball cap and pulls it on. He stuffs his phone in his back pocket and pats a waiting Libby on the head as he goes to the door.

“Where am I taking you?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Who says I’m taking you for coffee?”

Steve laughs. “Well,” he considers, “firstly, you asked me to come for coffee, not the other way round. Secondly, I figured with a glamorous job such as yours you’d know nice places for coffee.”

“Nope. I know nothin’. Lead the way, Rogers!”

“Okay, okay. I have an idea.”

Steve’s idea is to walk many, many blocks to a little French cafe he passes sometimes. His first thought was to bring Bucky to a super-trendy hipster cafe nearby, but he’s not sure he’s in the mood to balance on tall stools in a crowded, overpriced, tiny place when he and Bucky could take a walk together to find somewhere special.

Their walk in uneventful, but Steve enjoys wandering the streets of New York with Bucky as much as he thought he would. 

The little French place is busy, with the front window full of beautifully decorated pasties, cakes and pastel coloured macaroons that look both delicious and far too pretty to eat. A blue and white striped canopy hangs over the shop front, and the name _Maison Bertaux_ is scrawled across the window in ornate gold lettering. Even from outside it looks quaint and perfect from a nice brunch with Bucky, even if it may make their time together more date-like than intended.

Inside there’s a busy bakery counter at the front of the cafe where you can buy the contents of the window as well as french bread, brioche, croissants and a host of other French delights. Steve’s secretly glad that this place isn’t closer to his apartment because he’d spend his life here.

They’re seated near the back of the store. 

“This place is amazing,” says Bucky. 

And it is. The decor is understated, but definitely trying for French chic, even if it possibly falls a little short in that area. The furniture is all antique though Steve has no idea if it’s French or even European for that matter. The walls are covered in dressers full of pretty cups and saucers, teapots and little sugar bowls. There’s paintings of landscapes in gilded frames, and from the ceiling there’s big chandeliers with faux diamonds dripping from them. 

“Yeah, I’ve walked by this place a bunch and never been inside.”

“Now you have,” Bucky grins. “If anyone asks, I’m going to say it’s your fault and that you’re a bad influence, but I walked by that bakery counter and all I can think of is that there’s at least three pastries that I’m gonna eat today.”

“I’m not here to judge! And three? Really? That’s all?”

“Three to start with.”

“I can train with you to work it off.”

“Not sure there’s enough hours in the week to burn off all these calories. Maybe I can switch fields and get into plus sized modelling?”

“You’d be amazing at that too, I’ll bet.”

Bucky simpers, and Steve’s sure he’d be falling in love with Bucky no matter what he looked like, because the sparkle in Bucky’s eyes, the mischief in his grin has no corellation to the size clothes he wears.

There’s a few moments of awkwardness and stilted conversation as the waitress brings them menus and they discuss what to get. Steve gets caught looking at Bucky over the top of his menu - Bucky looks adorable as he furrows his brow and studies his own menu, and gives Steve a beaming smile when he looks up and they lock eyes.

They decide on a taster menu which gives them a little bit of everything the restaurant has to offer.

“So what’s new in the world of superhero-ing?” Bucky asks, once the waitress has disappeared to get them coffees.

Steve laughs. He’d like to share that they now have eyes on a possible threat off the coast of California, or that Tony’s working on new arrows for Clint that explode on impact, but he can’t really tell Bucky any of it. “Not much. Nothing that I can share. Oh, wait. Got a new uniform. Navy blue. It’s a little more stealthy than the red white and blue.” It feels like a lame thing to share, but Bucky quirks an eyebrow.

“That sounds cool.”

“It’s not really,” Steve says, he it has a few little modifications his last suit didn’t, but it feels strange to talk to Bucky about that, and he really doesn’t want to freak Bucky out. “What about you? Any news in the world of modelling?” 

“Nothing much. I had a casting yesterday. This little indie brand of completely eco friendly underwear looking for models for a campaign.”

“Eco friendly underwear,” Steve smirks, and it makes Bucky laugh.

“I know. It sounds weird, right? But they’re like a carbon neutral company, organic cotton, meant to be totally comfortable, like a second skin or something.”

Steve only lets his himself think about Bucky wearing second-skin underwear for the briefest second before stopping himself and saying, “Sounds interesting.”

“I’m not sure about interesting. But it’s a paying job. I’ll take it!”

“So what’s the worst modelling job you’ve had?”

“Aw, man. I don’t know about worst. I usually only describe jobs that are badly organised or where I had to work with rude people as bad. I’ve never done any runway modelling, because honestly I think I’d fall flat on my face. Catalogue stuff is usually safer. Oh, you know what? You know the way people say never to work with children or animals? Well, that’s true. It makes things pretty unpredictable.”

“There’s a story there,” Steve says.

“There is,” Bucky says. Steve could listen to Bucky’s voice all day, his soft New York accent and deep voice making everything sound so much more wonderful than it it were anyone else telling the story. 

“So, I had a shoot for this clothing label and their bright idea was to have us models hold animals, maybe to make things cuter or more appealing to a wider range of people. I have no idea. So anyway, I had to hold this koala, and koalas are so super cute, and really, really soft and fluffy, right? She was gorgeous. Big black eyes, and so, so cuddly. But this one stank so bad - i think they all do, they’re animals - and she used her razor sharp little claws to hold on really tight to me. But I was being paid to model clothes and I had to be professional, so I plastered a super profession smile on my face, pouted and smoldered and did whatever the hell else I was asked to do, all while this little fluffy lady tried to claw my skin off. Not a great day.”

Steve’s laughing because he can’t help himself. “Sounds hard. Thankfully I don’t work with animals, though I do love them, and the things that try to claw my skin off don’t need to be photographed!”

Their coffee date continues in much the same way, swapping war stories that are in no way similar but give away little pieces of information about themselves nonetheless. The food is amazing; delicious and decadent and Steve feels thoroughly spoiled, both by the indulgent food and the great company. 

Before Steve knows it, several hours have gone by, and Bucky’s insisting on picking up the bill with the promise that Steve can repay him by taking him out for coffee another day.

“Come back to mine and hang out? Unless you have plans?” Steve asks. He really doesn’t want today to end.

“Nope, I got nothin’ to do and no one to do it with. And I miss your cat. She hasn’t been over in a couple days. My place is too quiet and not hairy enough without her.”

Steve laughs hard. “I know, right? What did I do before all of my possessions were covered in cat hair? How did I get through my life without that? Without being woken at three in the morning by her scratching my closet door to get in, or standing on my chest and meowing in my face?”

“She does that?” Bucky looks disbelieving and it’s adorable. 

“Oh, yeah. She doesn’t really follow day and night like you and I. Cats are assholes - I’m guessing you’ve never had your own cat?”

“Nope.”

“And she doesn’t behave like that when she’s over with you?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe you should consider getting one,” Steve says. “You seem to like having Libby around. Cats are great...mostly.”

“If I thought I’d keep regular hours I would get a cat for sure. Maybe a couple of them.”

“Crazy cat lady Bucky!”

“Damn straight.” 

“Well, you can keep borrowing her. She sure as hell doesn’t mind, and neither do I.” Which is the understatement of the year, but whatever.

“I appreciate that. And if you ever need a cat sitter again when you have a mission to go on or somethin’ I’d be happy to feed her for you?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Yeah, actually that would be great. She likes you. And that really helped me out the last time.”

“I like her too.” Bucky looks wistful for a second. “Don’t judge me, okay? But I wish we’d gotten more of those pastry things to bring back.”

Steve laughs because Bucky is cute as hell. He wants to say that he’ll bring Bucky a pastry every day. He wants to say that he’ll goddamn learn to make them for Bucky if it’d make him happy. But as brave as the world thinks he is, he’s a chicken when it comes to his feelings, so he just says, “I’m not here to judge. And those little coloured macaroons? I’m going back for those. I think the team would appreciate it.”

“You know, I keep hearing things about the Russian Tearooms and how good they are-”

“Maybe we should check ‘em out, then?”

“Make this a regular thing?” And Steve doesn’t mean just trying out pastries, he means spending quality one-on-one time with Bucky.

“Not sure my waistline can handle that. My agent’s gonna kill me.” And he looks shy for a second. “But, yeah. We could do that.”

Steve can’t help but grin.

“If you ever want to swing by the compound and use our gym, you’d be more than welcome.”

“And you work with superheroes? I’m not so sure--”

“Just think about it, the offer is there.”

“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that. Hey, so should we start a list of places to go for coffee?”

“Not just coffee. Anywhere that sounds interesting.”

“Will do” Bucky says, and as they cross the road, Steve takes Bucky’s elbow to guide him through the throngs of people. “I mean, I work in modelling so we don’t actually talk about eating, but most of the makeup artists and stylists do actually eat, so if I get any recommendations I’ll update you.”

“Good, cos I’m not great at this.”

“You’re doing well so far,” Bucky grins and Steve almost trips over, all coordination gone because Bucky is so damn beautiful when he smiles.

They hang out in Steve’s place, Bucky spending the first fifteen minutes cuddling a happy Liberty as she purrs and headbutts his hand looking for more pettings. 

Steve’s mind is occupied by how great it felt to spend time with Bucky outside today, how well they got on. Although Steve hasn’t had all that many dates, let alone many good ones, the intimacy of sitting opposite Bucky as they shared pastries, as Bucky _fed_ Steve a pink macaroon, rings true. Considering today felt like a date, Steve feels like he wants to kiss Bucky. He wants to kiss him bad, and Bucky doing all those adorable things like playing with his hair and smiling that magical smile are not helping the matter at all.

“So, any more recommendations for teas to try?” Steve says, which is the lamest topic of conversation he’s come up with all day, but it’s so very far from what he actually wants to talk about - kissing.

Bucky laughs hard. “Really? That’s such a lame conversation. Did we run out of things to talk about?”

“No,” Steve says, feeling like he might have been rumbled, “But it’s a legitimate conversation, right? That’s what the kids are into theses days. Tea. When I grew up all we talked about was tea.”

Bucky laughs even harder and Steve feels like he’s gotten away with it.

“Show me,” Bucky says. There’s a subtle leer in his voice, a little tilt to his chin that could be cockiness. 

Steve lifts himself from his comfy position on the couch and heads to the kitchen. In the cupboard over the sink he has a selection of teas he picked up at the grocery store. Bucky follows him.

“Loose leaf teas?”

“Yeah, I bought this little thing.” Steve hands Bucky a little silver mesh ball, an infuser that goes into a cup to make perfect loose leaf tea without having to make an entire pot.

“Jeez, you went all out. Have I created a tea nerd?”

Steve laughs this time. “You makin’ fun of me, punk? You jealous of my tea strainer?”

“Oh, I so am.”

“Well, gimme it back then.”

“Naw, I kinda like it. Maybe it should be a finders fee for me ‘cause I introduced you to tea.”

Bucky sounds so playful so Steve snatches the infuser from his hands.

“Can’t have that.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

Steve holds it out for Bucky to take but closes his fist around it just in time. Bucky makes a faux-annoyed face and Steve lets him take the it this time. 

“Are we gonna throw down over a tea strainer?”

“Too fucking right we are,” Bucky says holds the tea strainer behind his back. His tone is so playful that Steve can’t resist. When Steve goes to grab it, Bucky lifts his arm above his head, but considering Steve is a half inch taller, it’s pointless. Steve plucks it right out of Bucky’s hand, but he has to step into Bucky’s personal space to do it.

And then there’s a long beat of silence where neither of them move and Bucky’s just standing there with a big stupid grin on his face and his chest heaving from laughing. He’s so close and Steve wants so badly to touch him, to kiss him, to gather him into his arms and carry him to bed.

The moment stretches out as Bucky’s gaze drops to Steve’s mouth and then back up to lock eyes again, his long eyelashes fluttering.

“Steve,” Bucky says, his breath feathering over Steve’s mouth and chin. 

As much as Steve fears he probably shouldn’t, he thinks that all the signs of Bucky’s flirting and body language point to Bucky wanting this too, so Steve closes his eyes tight and kisses Bucky. It’s a firm kiss, harder than he first intended, but when Bucky’s hand fits to Steve’s waist and curls into his shirt and kisses back, Steve melts against him. 

Bucky’s kiss turns softer, looser, his lips lax against Steve’s as he greedily kisses. Bucky’s hands are greedy too, roaming over Steve’s hips and chest. He opens his mouth under Steve’s and Steve snakes his tongue in gently, the first touch sending shivers through his body. He takes a sharp intake of breath which he thinks might steady him but his heart is beating too fast. He exhales a moan when Bucky’s hand slips under Steve’s shirt to paw at bare skin. 

Having Bucky in his arms feels luxurious, a treat he never thought he’d get, a treat he doesn’t feel like he deserves.

He wraps one arm around Bucky’s waist and pulls him closer, and the other still on Bucky’s jaw, holding still, swiping out a gentle beat with his thumb. Bucky’s got one hand under Steve’s shirt on his hip, the other clutched tight in the fabric.

Steve thinks that things could heat up further, that he could act on the hard-on that’s drilling through his pants, to act on the hard-on he knows Bucky has too - Bucky’s pressed against him a handful of times. He could lead Bucky towards his bedroom, or drop to his knees right now and take Bucky into his mouth, _god_ , he could bend Bucky over the kitchen table and fuck him raw.

But he’s content; content to be kissing, exploring, going slow and easy. 

In the midst of the best kiss of Steve’s life, there’s a sharp _meow_ and it becomes evident that Liberty is not pleased with being ignored. 

Bucky pulls back from the kiss, giggling adorably. He still has a handful of Steve’s shirt and he uses his other hand to shove his hair off his face. His eyes sparkle as they lock with Steve’s.

“So,” Steve says, though he has nowhere to go from there.

“So, yeah.”

Bucky’s still not letting go of Steve’s shirt and in fact he rubs it between his fingers like he’s playing with it. He watches his fingers, deep in thought, and he’s so close to Steve when he speaks again.

“So I thought for a second about thanking you for our coffee date and then leaving, like if I leave right after kissing you it would be this nicely dramatic exit. I’d be on your mind all day.” He says it with a smile in his voice and he’s so fucing cute that Steve can’t handle it. “But I don’t want to go yet. So, wanna hang out a little longer?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Steve says.

They hang out on the couch for the next couple of hours talking, hands touching, sometimes with fingers linked. But it’s nothing more than that.

When Bucky leaves, Steve kisses him at the door; a lingering kiss with a spark of heat behind it. Best Day ever.

*

Bucky has no clue what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s standing in his workout gear in the fucking Avenger’s training gym. What the fuck?

It’s a little surreal.

On one side of the gym there’s the usual racks of weights and weights machines, though the sheer size of the weights goes far beyond what would be found in a normal gym. There’s mats and boxing rings and punch bags for fight training. It would almost pass for a regular gym if Bucky didn’t know where he is, and if there wasn’t actual superheroes training here.

Bucky has just one goal, and it’s to not make an ass of himself. This should cover everything from not trying to lift too much, to not falling flat on his face. These are Steve friends and workmates and fucking _superheroes_ and Bucky feels very out of place, and quite self conscious.

“I do okay in the gym, I know my way around...but this is a little intimidating,” Bucky confesses.

Steve claps him lightly on the back. “I won’t abandon you under a barbel, don’t worry. And you don’t have to do anything you’re not up for. Just hang out?”

Steve’s wearing a gloriously tight _Under Armour_ shirt with some ass-hugging sweatpants, and he gives Bucky a little smile. How can Bucky say no?

“I think I’m just gonna run first?”

“Sure.”

Bucky runs on the treadmill because he knows he can do that. He changes it to his usual speed and incline and away he goes.

From this position in the gym he can see Steve and almost all of the rest of the gym. It’s Steve he keeps his eyes on, though.

Steve hardly needs to work out, so it’s not as though he’s hear to burn off the donut he had with his coffee on the way over, but he’s told Bucky that he does it because the gym can be a great place for forming relationships with his teammates - outside of the battlefield. It’s also good to practice and stay limber. 

Bucky watches as Steve does what can only be described as gymnastics - hanging from a set of monkey bars in varying positions, doing chin ups and pull ups and moves that Bucky could never dream of being able for despite his fitness. Steve’s body is agile and he moves with the speed and grace of someone half his size. 

Bucky almost fails his single goal of not looking like an ass because he nearly trips while running, because he’s too busy staring at Steve’s super-snug shirt ride up.

When Steve’s done with that he wanders back over to Bucky’s treadmill and Bucky decides his run might be over for now.

“So you’ve never had any fight training, right?”

Bucky shakes his head. At one point he thought of taking up Aikido as an alternative to gym workouts, but he bailed on it in the end.

“Any interest?”

“In fighting?” Bucky wonders if Steve is about to jump him and test him, and of course Bucky then gets distracted by the thought of Steve jumping him in any form at all. He tries to stay focussed. “I guess? Maybe I can learn to fight off pervy photographers and designers that get handsy.”

Bucky says it half joking, but Steve looks so concerned. “That happens?”

“Sometimes. Not often,” Bucky reassures him, because it really isn’t all that often, and as shitty as it is, Bucky has come to accept it as part of being a model. “I think girls are much more likely to have that happen to them. But it’s happened.”

“Do you want me to show you?” Steve asks with a furrowed brow. “I can show you a few moves.”

Bucky nods and Steve grins.

Learning some fighting moves from Steve is...seriously distracting. Bucky’s far more focussed on Steve’s body and the way he moves than much else, but at least he picks up how to get out of a hold.

Steve stands behind him, very close behind him. He slides one arm around Bucky’s neck in a pretty tight hold.

“So if someone was to come at you like this, you’re best chance is to use your elbows. A swift, hard jab with your elbow could be enough to distract your attacker for a second, and a second could be enough time. Try it.”

Bucky goes to turn around to look Steve in the eye because he’s not sure if he’s serious. Steve has a tight hold of him though so Bucky can’t actually turn. 

“I don’t want to elbow you, Steve.”

“I can take it. C’mon. You need to see how to do it.”

Bucky does as he’s told and when Steve tightens his grip again, Bucky gives him a sharp jab in the ribs. Steve grunts and releases Bucky from his grip.

“Jesus, sorry, Steve.” Bucky panics, because he’s just elbowed his crush in the ribs, even if he was told to do so.”

Steve chuckles, clutching his ribs. “It’s fine, I promise. No lasting damage done, and now I know you can do it.”

Bucky’s relieved and moreso when Steve offers to show him some more moves. 

It’s stupidly erotic being held by Steve like this, and it has nothing to do with a violence kink or anything similar. Bucky’s so impressed by how much Steve wants Bucky to be able to protect himself, checking each time that Bucky understand the move, the hold, whatever.

And yes, being held close to Steve’s big, hard body is such a fucking physical turn on, that Bucky’s using half his energy just to keep from popping a boner. He can’t help but image he and Steve pressed together all over, naked and sweaty and with pleasure as the goal rather than a self defence lesson. He’s not sure if today is supposed to be a date or not or where will end up after the gym, but Bucky’s excited just thinking about it.

Steve’s chest is broad and firm, his skin hot through his shirt, and Bucky thinks that he could just crane his neck and kiss Steve. They haven’t kissed since that first time, thought they haven’t had much time to hang out what with Bucky working non stop, and Steve in back to back meetings and briefings. He can feel Steve’s breath on his skin and Steve’s arms are pressed around his torso. Bucky wants to kiss him, wants to capture those lush pink lips and kiss him senseless.

“Am I interrupting something, Rogers?” a husky female voice asks. It completely distracts Bucky and he messes up his move almost kneeing Steve in the balls in the process.

“Just showing Bucky some basic self defence.”

“Well don’t let me disturb you.” She gives them a wry smile.

“You’re not. Bucky, this is Natasha. Nat, this is Bucky.”

Bucky shakes Natasha’s hand. She’s the redhead he’s seen Steve is the hallway with, and she’s even more stunningly beautiful up close.

“Nice to meet you. You’re the neighbour, right?” she asks.

“Right,” Bucky says, because he’s actually not sure what he and Steve are right now, but at least neighbour is true. 

She looks at Bucky with a suggestive quirk of her eyebrow. “If you ever want me to teach you some moves to use against the Captain here, just let me know. I’m not sure if he has an weak points, but at least you’d have the element of surprise.”

Steve laughs. “No need for that, Nat.” 

“Just an offer. I’ll let you boys get back to whatever you were doing,” she says, and sashays away to the other side of the gym.

When she’s gone, Steve raises an eyebrow. “What were we doing?”

“Uh.”

“Want to finish up? Maybe head home and order something to eat?”

Bucky’s tired and sore from fighting, but elated from spending the afternoon in such close contact with Steve. He nods. He’s never had a better plan in his whole life.

 

*

The trip back to the apartment is filled with furtive glances and silly smiles. More than that, though there’s an electric tension between them that Steve can feel in his bones every time they touch hands or bump shoulders.

They’re barely inside Bucky’s apartment when Bucky has his mouth on Steve’s, kissing him hard.

His mouth is hot and urgent, his tongue pushing Steve’s lips apart. Steve gladly lets him in, his breath hitching as their tongues touch for the first time.

“Fuck, Steve. Wanted to kiss you all day.”

“I know, Buck. Fuck.”

The kiss is heated, but Steve wants to slow it way down so that he can savour it; if he lets his hormones take over now then this will be over far, far too soon.

He trails his fingers up Bucky’s sides and feels Bucky’s body shift like he’s shivering. Bucky’s shirt is thin cotton so Steve can feel the warmth of his skin radiating through it, and Steve wants to touch him everywhere. Bucky inches closer, his hand on Steve’s waist, the other fisted into his tight crop of hair. 

Bucky tilts his head and it deepens the kiss, making it that much hotter. He moves his hand to Steve’s chest, presses his palm to Steve’s pec and smoothes his hand downwards until it rests in Steve’s waistband. Steve has to suppress a moan because it feels incredibly hot to have Bucky’s hand so close to his dick.

Then Bucky slips one finger inside the waistband of Steve’s jeans, and Steve makes an embarrassing noise as Bucky grazes his hipbone. The noise turns into a gasp when Bucky slips a second finger in and slide it along so that it’s inline with Steve’s fly. Steve almost loses his mind as his brain flicks through all the delicious things that might be coming next.

He pushes back just enough so that Bucky’s pinned between the countertop and Steve’s hips, and though they’re not exactly grinding against each other, Bucky’s hips make these tiny little movements, tiny sporadic thrusts. Steve assumes that Bucky’s trying to hold himself back, to control himself to keep things slow. Steve sure is; he’s trying to restrain himself from riding Bucky’s thigh and just humping his leg like a horny dog. 

Those little hip movements that Bucky makes send jolts of pleasure through Steve’s whole body, and he can’t keep kissing Bucky’s mouth. He breaks away to breathe, but Bucky looks obscenely gorgeous, so after barely a second, Steve fits his mouth to the exposed curve of Bucky’s neck and goes for it. He kisses a line downward and bites when he gets to the join at his shoulder. Bucky groans and it’s gorgeous. 

Steve is nervous, cautious. He hasn’t slept with anyone in quite some time. He tried dating when he first came out of the ice, and boy has dating changed since the forties. There’s a lot of expectations and rules and stupid sexual politics, and bar a few ill-advised one nights stands, he never bothered too much with it.

But now he’s nervous, and he wants this to be right. He likes Bucky so, so much that this has to be perfect. 

Bucky’s hand slides up the back of Steve’s shirt and he fights a shiver. Bucky’s hand feels hot like a brand, and it makes Steve wonder what Bucky’s fingers, hands, skin will feel like all over him. Speaking of which--

“Can we-?” Steve says, and never finishes his sentence, because Bucky’s kissing him again and guiding them towards the couch. 

“I know you invited me to train to work off all those pastries, but I thinking i might like this workout much better,” Bucky says, his grin wicked.

Steve chuckles as Bucky climbs over him, their bodies pressed from chest to waist. The chuckle turns into a gasp when Bucky grinds against him, the thick denim doing nothing to hide Steve’s raging hard on. Steve thinks it’s time to think about getting rid of the jeans though, because if it feels this good now, imagine what it feels like to have Bucky’s dick against his with nothing impeding the contact.

His hands go to Bucky’s waist again, rucking up his shirt this time to touch at the hot, soft skin underneath. He runs his hands all over Bucky’s back feeling the muscle move as Bucky does. Steve’s breath hitches again when Bucky leans back and pulls his shirt off over his head. Steve’s seen Bucky shirtless before in photos, that time Bucky answered the door in a towel, and all of those oversized, stretched out tank tops he wears leave little to the imagination. But that’s nothing compared to live-and-in-person shirtless Bucky sitting in Steve’s lap panting and ready to be touched. 

Steve does touch Bucky, of course, letting his fingertips roam all over Bucky’s skin, his abs and chest, his nipples, the trail of hair the disappears into his underwear. Bucky just hums and pants and kisses Steve again and again making the happiest noises all the while. 

And then, _and then_ , Bucky starts pulling at Steve’s shirt, and despite how fit and flexible Steve is, he still has to do a lot of wiggling to get his shirt off, but it’s so that he doesn’t have to dislodge Bucky from his lap. 

Steve’s aware of what his own body looks like, and he’s used to people being curious about it, but he has to restrain himself from squirming under Bucky’s gaze. Bucky looks both awe-struck and thrilled as he traces the outline of Steve’s abs, the V-lines on his hips.

“So this is what Captain America looks like with his shirt off, huh?” Bucks says. “You’d make a goddamn killing if you decided to model. You, with your shirt off, modeling jeans or boxers, _god_. Fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Steve can feel himself blushing, but instead of saying anything he just kisses Bucky again. 

Bucky struggles a little to get Steve’s jeans undone, but the wiggling and shifting is worth it when Bucky presses his palm to Steve’s dick through his underwear. Steve’s mostly hard already, but with Bucky’s hand on him he groans, getting harder at the touch. He feels Bucky’s chest hitch as he takes a shaky breath and for the first time Steve realises that Bucky might be nervous too. It loosens something in Steve’s chest.

Steve gets Bucky’s button and fly open and matches Bucky’s movement, shaping his hand to Bucky’s hard cock and stroking it through his boxer briefs. Bucky bites on his lower lip and closes his eyes. His hand is still on Steve’s dick and they move in tandem, stroking carefully, until Bucky changes up the game by slipping his hand _inside_ Steve’s boxers and pulling Steve’s dick out.

The air feels cool against Steve’s bare skin, and he’s completely hard now and leaking precome. When Bucky strokes him this time Steve moans loudly, unable to keep the sounds in any longer. Bucky leans down and kisses him again, his hand working his own dick out.

Then Steve nearly loses the plot entirely as Bucky takes both cocks in his fist and gives him a slow, firm stroke. Steve can feel everything; the hot, silky skin of Bucky’s shaft, the pulse of blood, the calluses on Bucky’s hand.

Steve could come like this, hell, he could have come just by rubbing against Bucky - he’s _that_ turned on, but considering this is the first time he’s been laid in fucking ages, and considering this is _Bucky_ , he wants more than that.

He feels greedy, but he says, “Bedroom?”

“Fuck, yes. C’mon.”

On the way, they both shead shoes, socks, jeans and boxers until Steve can push Bucky down naked onto the bed and lays over him. He’s nestled between Bucky’s thighs, and Bucky feels so damn good in his arms, pliant and wanting. Bucky pulls his legs tight around Steve’s waist so that they’re locked together, pressing everywhere, the friction so good that every time Bucky so much as tilts his hips, Steve can feel his cock throb.

Bucky’s so responsive, and so eager to reciprocate by touching Steve all over. 

They roll around a little, exploring each other. Steve loves the feeling of Bucky’s tattoos under his fingertips, the coarse hair on his thighs, the hard muscle bunching as he moves.

“So, I was thinkin’,” Bucky says, looking up at Steve, “Can we fuck?”

Steve’s had no definite ideas for what he wants here, he’s been too busy just enjoying the fact that he’s with Bucky. He nods, and Bucky kisses him.

Bucky rolls them over so that he’s on top, hair falling into his eyes, his thighs tight around Steve’s. “Can I ride you?”

“Fuck. God, yes, Bucky.”

Before Steve can really compute what’s happening, Bucky’s slicking up two fingers. He kisses Steve deep and perfect, his tongue quick and clever, and when he moans into the kiss Steve realises that Bucky’s got his two fingers in his own ass, easing himself open. 

Steve pulls back to get a better look at Bucky, and he’s the most beautiful sight that Steve has ever seen. His eyes are dark, he bites on his lip and there’s sweat starting to bead on his forehead and collarbone. His body is magnificent; not an ounce of fat anywhere with flat abs and thick thighs. Steve kisses him again - his lips and chin, the side of his neck and his Adam’s apple, and Bucky keeps on making gorgeous sounds. His cock is flushed and hard, leaking precome, and Steve’s mouth waters just looking at him.

“Fuck, Steve.” Bucky’s free hand - the one that’s not working deep inside himself - threads into Steve’s hair and tugs on the hairs at the back to bring Steve back up and kiss him senseless again.

Bucky wipes his lubed hand on the sheets and retrieves a condom, rolling it on for Steve, keeping eye-contact like he’s checking what he’s doing is okay. It’s more than okay with Steve, and it’s all that Steve can do to keep from crying out at how good Bucky’s hands feel on him even doing something as small as putting a condom on. Then Bucky’s over him again, climbing on top and sitting on Steve’s waist, his ass nestling against Steve’s sheathed dick. 

He kisses Steve again, and Steve threads a hand through Bucky’s hair to pull him down and kiss him harder.

Slowly, Bucky eases Steve’s cock into him until Steve’s deep inside. Bucky feels fucking devine around him; hot and tight and glorious. Steve cants his his upwards and that wicked grin that Bucky seems to be so good at appears again. He sweeps his hair off his face with one hand and grips Steve’s hip with the other. Then he starts to move.

Bucky rolls his hips and his body moves in time, muscles moving to the rhythm. He leans down to kiss Steve deep and hot so that Steve’s tongue is in his mouth as well as Steve’s dick being in his ass. It’s wonderfully intimate, especially as Bucky holds his jaw as they kiss. 

The angle is perfect for Bucky to have all the control as he rides and Steve meets Bucky halfway, pushing his hips up, pushing inside. They find a rhythm, slow at first but gradually picking up speed and intensity until Bucky’s riding hard, his thighs tensing and releasing. He sits up tall, and the angle is slightly shallower, but it means Bucky can go faster.

Steve’s losing it, losing himself to pleasure and intimacy and all he can think is how good it feels. It’s been a long time since Steve got laid - seriously, a _really_ long time - but the fact that it’s Bucky makes everything magnified; hotter and better, more intense, more intimate. Steve can’t pinpoint it, but he can’t imagine he would feel like this with anyone else. 

Then Bucky rides harder, mouth open and his hand in his hair. The other hand is on his dick, flushed and hard, as he touches himself. Steve covers Bucky’s hand with his own, and they stroke him hard and fast together. 

Bucky looks so beautiful as he comes undone, panting and moaning incoherently in half formed words. He’s so tight around Steve’s cock, tighter still as he nears climax.

Bucky comes with his face buried in Steve’s neck, panting and shuddering. Steve’s close but not quite there, and even the sight of Bucky’s sinfully hot orgasm doesn’t tip him over. Instead he flips them so that Bucky’s on his back and Steve drives hard into him. Bucky tightens his thighs around Steve, and Steve just keep on rutting until his own orgasm overwhelms him and he comes inside Bucky. 

“Oh, god. That was-” Steve breathes.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Been thinkin’ about you so much lately.”

And that could be a sentence that scares Bucky away, it could be a little much to admit that he’s been on Steve’s mind, but Bucky nods.

“I know what you mean.”

Steve kisses him tenderly, all the force and heat from before replaced with softness. 

Bucky’s out for the count shortly after for an afternoon nap he’s earned, and Steve lasts only a little longer. He pets Bucky’s hair, brushing it off his face. He looks beautiful and peaceful, and Steve feels so content as he drifts off into a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's morning after his night with Steve is not what he expects, and Steve's trip to visit Bucky on a photoshoot doesn't work out the way he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to anyone who has been reading so far. Just one chapter left...:D
> 
> Trigger warning in this chapter for sexual harassment / mention of sexual assault.

Bucky wakes, aware of someone towering over him, and it takes a second for his brain to catch up and remember that it’s Steve, because he and Steve spent the night together. After their afternoon delight, they napped, waking for food and then round two when Steve fucked Bucky gloriously, only to lounge in bed and sleep again.

He’s smiling to himself when he blinks his eyes open, but Steve has a very serious expression on his face.

“Hey, there,” Bucky purrs.

“I have to go, Buck. I didn’t want to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Bucky rubs his eyes, confused. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did I do something-?”

“No, you didn’t. It’s nothing like that. It’s...work. I have to go.”

Bucky’s not awake enough to understand all of the implications of Steve having to run urgently to _work_ , but he nods. Steve leans down and kisses Bucky so sweetly that Bucky’s whole body aches as they break apart.

“I’ll call you when I can, I promise,” Steve says.

And then Steve is gone. 

A line like that would have left Bucky sceptical if it had come from anyone else - he’s had enough one night stands to recognise the brush off when he hears it - but Steve’s sincerity makes Bucky believe it.

Plus, he knows Steve well enough by now to know that he’s not that kind of guy. There must be serious peril for Steve to rush off like that, but Bucky ignores his worry and anxiety over Steve and his safety for a moment and rolls over in the bed.

He luxuriates in the feeling of cotton against his naked skin and the fact that his sheets smell of Steve and sex. His memories from the night before are still fresh and vivid, and the mouth-shaped bruise on his chest is a hard evidence, otherwise he might have assumed it was all just a wonderful dream. 

He doesn’t want to move or get up or do anything that might send him back to the real world - the real world where Steve has to go off to fight to protect the country, the real world where he and Steve can’t make a blanket fort to eat donuts and make out in.

Bucky’s stiff when he finally does get up. His thighs ache and his asshole feels like hell, but it’s all worth it and he gets a full-body shiver when he thinks about it. Sex with Steve was more amazing than he ever thought possible. 

Bucky showers, jerks off thinking of Steve and the lazy morning sex they could have been having this morning. Then he dresses and makes coffee. 

Only then does he let himself worry that Steve is off defending the earth, probably from someone or something truly awful. 

When he turns on the news, there’s only word of an _incident_ in LA, one that’s a cause for concern. Bucky shuts off the TV and grabs his jacket. He’s got a meeting with his agent at midday which at least will be a distraction.  
Bucky’s meeting with Alexander Pierce, his agent, might distract him, but it doesn’t go quite as well as he’d hoped.

“I know you had an issue working with Brock Rumlow previously, but I insist that you do this shoot with him,” Alexander says.

Bucky has to work hard to restrain himself and not roll his eyes. “I really don’t want to.” Which is an understatement. “He hit on me.”

“Look, James. Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t want to. That’s just a part of life. And I’m sure he wasn’t hitting on you. Rumlow is a very prestigious photographer. He’s going to be huge. I suggest you work around your issues with him.”

“My issues--” Buck stops himself before he snaps. He knows that Rumlow is good, he just doesn’t want to be in the same room as him. The shoot in question is for a high end magazine and Bucky would get a lot of exposure. He wants to do it, just not with Rumlow.

“I know you’ll make the right choice, James,” Alexander says and it makes Bucky think that if he backs out of this then it might go against him in the future. Alexander likes things to go his way in all aspects. “And you really should think of getting some early nights before your next job. You look tired. Dark circles don’t get jobs booked as you well know.”

Bucky bites his tongue, and as much as he’d like to say that his dark circles are from staying up all night getting banged by Steve, but it’s irrelevant to this meeting and he knows he should keep his mouth shut about it anyway.

When he’s done with his meeting - ‘done’ meaning he’s made enough distracted sounds to get through the rest of it - he checks his news app, and the incident has been declared a major incident, but that the Avengers apparently have it under control. Bucky’s about twenty percent less worried, though it’s still a very strange and uncomfortable feeling knowing that Steve is off fighting and risking his life.

He gets a text from Steve when he’s on his way back from the gym. It’s an invite to dinner the next day and nothing more than that, and Bucky’s just baffled by the normality of it.

He wants to pretend that Steve is just away on business, like a travelling salesman or some sort of business executive that travels across the country for mergers and acquisitions. If he concentrates really hard he can almost imagine it. Even that would be hard.

But knowing Steve is in another city fighting is beyond difficult. He’s really falling for Steve. Really, really falling for him. 

This whole time he’s been thinking that what Steve is cool and interesting and really amazing. But for the first time he’s realising just how goddamn difficult it must be and now he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before.

It’s just plain easier to think of hearts and flowers and Steve’s blue eyes and bulging biceps, his stupid smile and inability not to be adorable. Why on earth would Bucky want to think about the bad things, the hard things, the really shitty things like this if he could bask in fluffy warm feelings instead?

He’s worried for the future, for every other time that he’ll have to bite his nails down to the quick as he worries for Steve’s safety. 

Then again, his time with Steve has made him so happy, and he doesn’t want to give it up.

He doesn’t say any of this to Steve via text, but he agrees to dinner. He’s just glad to know that Steve’s okay.

He swallows down his frustration, but it’s still stuck in his throat the next day when he sees Steve. Again, Steve look a little worse for wear, and Bucky scowls when he sees the black eye Steve is sporting.

“Let, me guess, the other guy came off worse?”

“If you call being thrown through a brick wall worse, then yes.”

Bucky manages a half smile but though he’s so relieved to see Steve alive and well and mostly unharmed, he still feels uneasy.

Steve takes a step forward and kisses Bucky lightly on the lips, and Bucky’s sure that Steve wants a longer kiss than just a peck but he pulls back, unable to help himself.

“Something wrong?” Steve asks, all adorable concerned eyebrows and serious face.

“No,” Bucky says, and shakes his head. Then he changes his mind. “Yes. Kind of.” He takes Steve’s hand so that Steve knows he’s here for him. “It’s just weird, you know. I guess I just sort of forgot that you do what you do. And I thought that waking up with you would be the best fucking thing and instead you had to run off to do the thing that you do to fight aliens--”

“A mutant.”

“Fine, a mutant. And then you text and asked me to dinner, and it made me so happy to say yes to a date with you, but I was mostly just happy that you’re alive, and it’s just a little weird. I need to wrap my head around it.”

Bucky’s babbling and he knows it, and he’s grateful when Steve cuts him off with a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot that this isn’t normal for you. Actually that’s a lie. I tried to pretend that this is normal. I know what I do is in fact not normal at all, and this must be strange for you. You’ve no idea how hard I wanted to ignore that call and stay in bed with you, but I can’t. If I can do the things I do and I can save people, then I have to.”

“No, I know that,” Bucky says. He feels like he’s fucking it up, sounding like he doesn’t want to date Steve, or worse that he’s asking Steve to pick between dating a stupid ass like Bucky and saving the world. Yeah, no. He’s just overwhelmed, and he’s glad when Steve takes his other hand and squeezes his fingers. “I would never expect anything else. I just-- it will just take some getting used to. That is if we, you know--”

“I want to keep seeing you,” Steve says with a little smile and he’s glad that they’re on the same page. “If this is too much for you - that’s what I worried about. I assumed that this - there’s a lot of baggage that comes with doing what I do. I get it if you don’t want this. No hard feelings.”

“Jesus, Steve. No. I want to date you. I’ll worry though, you know. All the time that you’re away fighting, I’ll be worrying. Even if you’re a superhero and could knock the shit out of anyone, I’m still gonna worry,” Bucky says, though he’s feeling considerably better about the whole thing.

“I know.”

“Just. How do you go back to being normal after something like that?”

“You don’t,” Steve says simply.

“You don’t,” Bucky repeats.

“My life has been anything but normal since the forties, Bucky. I don’t think I can ever really do normal.”

Bucky stays silent as he tries to think. He’s always taken his life for granted, taken normality for granted. He has a good life where he gets paid to wear nice clothes. He’s goddamn lucky. Maybe in another universe he’s the one fighting alongside someone like Steve. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have special abilities or super strength. He has no idea how he would react to something like that. He looks at Steve and really studies his face, his honest blue eyes and the furrow in his brow. 

Steve doesn’t get to choose a _normal_ life, but maybe Bucky can at least give him a little normality in his love life. 

Even if it’s going to take some getting used to, he wants this. “Okay.”

“Okay? Are you sure? I know this is a lot to take in.”

“It is,” Bucky says. “And I might freak out at some point-”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Bucky steps closer to Steve so that they’re almost nose to nose. He feels Steve’s hands move to the small of his back and he gets butterflies from how good it be in Steve’s arms. 

“Okay,” Bucky says again.

Steve kisses him, and this time Bucky pulls him close and kisses back. 

“Do you still wanna get dinner?” Bucky pulls back to ask. 

“Yes, but if we don’t go soon, I’m gonna change my mind and do all the things to you that I would have if we’d gotten a morning in bed together.”

Bucky’s stomach swoops down low and he huffs out a laugh. “Is that supposed to make me want to go for dinner? Cos it’s really not that motivational.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that through. But let’s get something to eat.” He pulls Bucky by the hand and Bucky just goes with it. “You’ll need your strength up for what comes after.”

Dinner is wonderful - a simple little French place with rustic cuisine, and their date seems like a really normal, amazing date. And when they get back to Steve’s place, they make out as soon as they’re home, and then Steve drops to his knees and blows Bucky on the couch. Bucky couldn’t ask for anything better.

*

Steve knows that it’s probably a bad idea to show up at Bucky’s place of work unannounced, but it’s the first time he’s ever been in the same area when Bucky’s working.

They’ve been dating about a week and half now, so it’s very, very early days, but it feels wonderful. They still do lots of hanging out on the couch - with Liberty planted between them or on one of them - but they get to kiss and fuck and go out for dinner, too. It’s perfect.

Bucky’s been semi-busy working the past few days, and Steve’s had a ton of briefings over a mission that will be coming up - when the timing is right, Fury is waiting on the exact right moment to strike.

Bucky’s photoshoot is on location in an old warehouse. It’s huge, with high ceilings and large windows, copious amounts natural light and and tons of character courtesy of the exposed brick walls and crumbling plaster. It’s a beautiful space in the right light, something that’s probably been around since Steve was a kid, and he can imagine it could be renovated into something even more beautiful if it was given a little love. 

Steve sneaks in - okay, not exactly sneaks, it’s an open set without any security - and after a little bit of wandering around, he finds the wardrobe departments which is several racks filled with beautiful suits and dress shoes.

There’s a woman with pin curls and red lipstick flipping through the rail of suits, obviously looking for something. When she looks up and catches his eye she smiles brightly. 

“You must be Steve,” she says. 

It takes Steve a second to put two and two together and realise that she’s Peggy, Bucky’s make up artist friend, and the woman that Steve once thought to be Bucky’s girlfriend. 

“Peggy, right? Nice to meet you. Bucky speaks highly of you.”

“Likewise. He’ll be glad to see you. Does he know you’re here? He’s been gushing about you all morning,” she says, her English accent clear. 

“No. I, uh, thought I’d surprise him.”

“Well, he’ll be surprised.”

She’s sweet and friendly and Steve instantly likes her. She’s dressed in perfectly fitting cream blouse and pencil skirt. It’s forties’ style, possibly vintage, and Steve feels a little nostalgic.

Peggy pulls out a navy blue jacket that she must have been looking for. She hangs it on the end of the rack and turns to Steve, leaning in a little closer.

Her eyes narrow as she says, “Bucky’s a dear friend of mine, and you’re the first person he’s been excited about dating in quite some time. If you hurt him, I will hunt you down, superhero or not. You got that?”

Steve blinks at her, but if he liked her before, he likes her even more now. She’s a woman who’s loyal to the people she cares about. 

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good. then we’re on the same page. He’ll be through here. Do you want to come with me?”

Steve nods and follows Peggy’s perfect silhouette through a doorway and into a large, open room.

There’s a whole photography set up with backdrops and lighting, softboxes and reflectors. 

And right in the centre of it all there’s Bucky. He’s wearing a charcoal grey suit with a black dress shirt. His hair is slicked back and he’s making a smouldering face for the camera, and Steve’s both turned on and completely endeared to him. Steve watches Bucky for a second as he adjusts his pose minutely, moving the position of his hand or changing the tilt of his chin as the photographer suggests.

The photographer - a big guy, fit, mid-thirties - leaves his camera for a second and walks over to Bucky. He moves Bucky’s arm and gets him to change the position of his feet slightly. Steve then watches him readjust the collar of Bucky’s shirt, but he can see Bucky visibly stiffen, especially as this guy grazes Bucky’s cheek with his knuckle. Bucky’s _smoulder_ has disappeared and he looks uneasy, his mouth in a tight-lipped smile.

Steve stiffens too, and he realises that he’s balled his fists at his sides. His instinct is to rush in there and help Bucky out, maybe give him a firm talking to.

But while Steve is trying to reign in his self control, he sees Peggy saunter over to touch up Bucky’s makeup. 

It’s a subtle intervention, but one that makes this asshole photographer back off back to his camera.

Bucky looks relieved, his face softening when Peggy boops him on the nose with her big, soft powder brush. She says something that relaxes him and then points over to where Steve’s standing. Bucky grins wide he sees Steve and Steve can’t help but grin back. 

When Bucky walks over, Steve’s not sure if he should kiss Bucky or not, but Bucky kisses him on the cheek before Steve can decide.

“What a nice surprise!”

“Yeah, couldn’t help myself. I had meetings this morning, and the Tower is just a couple blocks over. I figured I could drop by - I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I think I’m gonna be here a while though, and I’m not sure if I’ll get much of a break. Something about the daylight and the angles?”

“Sure, that’s okay. Give me a call when you’re done?”

“You know I will.”

Steve grins. He lets his gaze travel down the length of Bucky’s body and take in how well his looks in it, how perfectly it fits him.

“You look really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. It’s amazing what a thousand dollar suit and a makeup artist can do.”

Steve gives him a look. “You should give yourself more credit. You look amazing.”

There’s a very loud, very fake cough from across the warehouse, and of course it’s the asshole photographer. 

“Oh, as much as I hate to break up this dinner date, we have work to do, remember?” he smirks. Steve wants to punch him.

“Be right there,” Bucky calls back. “I have to go,” he says to Steve.

Of course, Steve can’t help but pry. “Is that guy bothering you? I saw the way he was with you before Peggy touched up your face. You don’t have to take that.”

“Steve,” Bucky starts, but he doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say because the photographer coughs dramatically again. “It’s Brock Rumlow. I told you about him before. Great photographer, but a complete asshole. I’m under contract. I just have to get through today.”

“Jesus, Buck. That guy that hit on you? He’s a creep. I don’t want to overstep my mark, but I’d like to drop a building on him right now.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “Please don’t. It’s fine. Only a little while longer.”

Steve’s not convinced and his face must give away as much because Bucky says, “It’s fine, I promise.” He kisses Steve on the lips and murmurs, “I’ll see you later. You can help me take off my suit.”

Then Bucky walks away towards a smirking photographer. He mimes a kiss in Steve’s direction as Bucky takes his spot again. Steve has to remind himself that this is not his fight, and if Bucky’s gone back to work then there’s not much he can do about it other than causing a scene and ruining a contract for Bucky.

He leaves the room with his tail between his legs, and Peggy catches his arm before he can leave the warehouse entirely.

“He’s a big boy, you know. And that Rumlow is a right arsehole, but after today Bucky won’t ever have to work with him again.”

“And you?”

“I refused to work with him already. He tried it on with me and was an all round piece of shit,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m only here because that boy of yours asked me to work today as a favour. He’s tough, Bucky, but he’s not always good at standing up for himself.”

Steve wants to say something about standing up for Bucky and maybe punching Rumlow while he’s at it, but Peggy must read it on his face. “Doesn’t mean you have to stand up on his behalf. He’s made the decision to finish today’s shoot so you should respect that. I’m not happy about it either, believe me.”

Steve says nothing while he contemplates Peggy’s words. “I’m glad he has a friend like you,” he says finally.

“Yes, he’s very lucky indeed. Now hop it,” she says with a smile as she ushers him toward the door. “I’ve other models to fix up and I can’t do that with you under my feet.”

Steve heads back to the tower and takes his frustrations out in the gym, pummelling a punch bag until there’s sand pouring from several burst seams.

He heads home after that, and he’s not home long - curled up on the couch with Liberty on his chest - when there’s a knock at the door. 

Bucky’s standing there in a charcoal grey suit and shiny shoes, with a large purple bruise blooming on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you?”

“You should see the other guy,” Bucky says, and he sounds like he’s trying to joke, but Steve doesn’t bite. He brings Bucky in and sits him down. He takes a closer look at Bucky’s cheek; it’s a little swollen, but Steve’s seen his fair share of injuries and this one looks worse than it is. 

“I’ll get you some ice. And then you’re going to tell me what happened.”

Steve takes care of Bucky the best he can. He gives Bucky a bag of frozen peas to hold against his face, and he eases Bucky out of his suit jacket so he’s more comfortable. But once Bucky’s looking a little better, Steve probes again.

“You’re gonna have to tell me eventually.”

“I’m reluctant to tell you. I feel like an idiot.”

Steve gives him a lopsided smile. “Tell me anyway, please?”

Bucky sighs and fidgets like he’s nervous. He looks Steve in the eye for a long minute and Steve wonders if he should pry so much; maybe he needs to back off and let Bucky tell him in his own time, if at all.

But then Bucky starts into his story.

“So, you know that I was shooting today, and you saw what a delight Rumlow is to be around--”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” Steve interrupts.

“Yeah, well he continued to be his charming self after you left. He was derogatory and rude and made comments about you, and i kept my mouth shut the whole time, I swear. He asked me to take my suit jacket off and pop the buttons on my shirt, and I did, it’s nothing that I’ve not done for shoots before. But he started posing me, moving my arms, rearranging my shirt. And I didn’t even mind that either, not until...fuck this sounds so stupid, but he put his hands on my chest to fix my shirt, then slid them down to my waist. Then he grabbed my ass.”

Steve’s seething, his jaw clenched and his blood pumping in his veins. But Bucky’s not done.

“I hit him. I socked him in the jaw,” Bucky says, and a smile spreads across his lips, triumphant.

“You hit him?”

“An uppercut, like what you taught me. I didn’t even think about it. I just thought that enough was enough. He’s done this to countless models and no one ever complains or puts him in his place properly. It’s all fucking contracts and whatever. It’s bullshit. So I hit him.”

That doesn’t explain how Bucky got a bruised cheek, so there’s more to this story.

“And when I hit him he lost his balance and fell halfway over. He hit against one of the tripods - I think he damaged his camera. But Jesus, Steve, he was so fucking angry. It’s like no one has ever stood up to him to his face before. He just saw red and made a swing for me. I ducked - like you showed me, but he swung again and he clocked my right on the cheek. I fell over - not the most elegant moment of my life,” he laughs, “and when I got up he just started yelling about how I’ll never work in fashion again.”

Bucky looks worried for a second but there’s a spark of hope and Steve takes his hand.

“Honestly, if that ends my career, then so be it. I’d rather stand up for myself.”

“Fuck, Bucky. I’m so sorry that that happened to you. I really am. I’m so fucking mad. Where is he? Is he still at the studio?”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’re not going over there, Steve. I appreciate that you want to help, but it’s done.”

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

“I also stole this suit,” Bucky laughs. “I just picked up the jacket and my things and ran. Peggy too. We just fucking left him there. I stole a thousand dollar suit. I should probably call Alexander.”

“Maybe you should,” Steve says. He soothes his fingers over Bucky’s unbruised cheek. “Is there anything I can do? And I mean anything, from getting you some clean clothes to going after Rumlow.”

“You’re not going after Rumlow. But you can take me to bed? I said you could help me out of my suit, so c’mon Captain!”

Steve laughs, because despite the awful day that Bucky’s had, the sparkle in his eyes is still there, and his mood is lighter than Steve would have expected.

“I can do that,” he says. He puts on his best Captain America voice, and says, “Are you injured? Do you need for me to carry you to safety?”

Bucky grins. “My hero. Yeah, you should probably carry me.”

To which Steve hops up and picks Bucky off the couch in the most inelegant of ways, throwing him of his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

Bucky laughs hard. “I was imagining something more romantic? Maybe bridal style?”

“Can’t have it all, Buck,” Steve says, as he dumps a smiling Bucky onto the bed, dislodging Liberty and sending her scarpering from the bedroom. “Now, you said something about getting you out of this suit?”

*

When Bucky wakes in Steve’s bed the next morning, he’s both relieved and thrilled to find Steve sleeping soundly beside him.

He’s pretty cute when he’s asleep, with his hair all rumpled and even some creases on his face from his pillow. His eyelashes are beautifully long and Bucky knows they’d be highly coveted by any model, male or female. 

Bucky wants to wake him, but he can’t bring himself to. He thinks that even if he gets up to pee or make coffee it might disturb Steve and then Bucky would lose his lovely view of sleeping Steve.

Bucky’s just scanning over the exposed bit of Steve’s body admiringly - his arms, shoulders, neck - when Liberty hops up onto the bed with a little _mew_ and walks over Bucky’s body. He’s on his back, and she settles on his chest, purring loudly.

He scritches her head and neck and she closes her eyes happily. He’s just scratching under her chin when Steve’s voice startles him.

“If you reward her with pettings for sitting on your chest early in the morning, she’ll do it every day.” His eyes are still closed and he hasn’t moved, but Bucky can deduce that Liberty’s behaviour this morning is completely normal and probably something that Steve himself has encouraged.

“So if I was to pet you it would encourage you?”

Steve laughs, eyes still closed. “Guess you’ll have to try it to find out.”

Well, Bucky’s certainly up for a challenge.

He tries to turn himself as gently as possible so that Liberty doesn’t get tipped off the bed entirely, but he hears her jump off the bed when he’s on his side, propped up on one elbow.

He can lean down enough to kiss Steve, and Steve finally moves from his sleeping position to kiss Bucky back, all soft lips and hot tongue. Bucky’s intention is to kiss and to actually pet Steve - meaning touching him _everywhere_ slowly and thoroughly - but Steve seems to have other ideas, pulling Bucky down and on top of him. 

Bucky revels in the feeling of Steve’s strong - and unbelievably gorgeous - arms as they wrap around his back. He spreads his legs so that his thighs bracket Steve’s, and his dck is nestled in the crook of Steve’s groin. He gets harder the longer they kiss, but Steve’s dick is pressing against Bucky, and he can feel Steve’s dick fill out, too.

“Fuck, this is what I missed out on that time I had to run off so early,” Steve groans. “Knew you’d feel good first thing in the morning.”

“I jerked off thinking about you after you left,” Bucky says, because he’s turned on enough to overshare.

Steve chuckles, his lips on Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, well I would have if I hadn’ta been so busy trin’ to save the world.”

Bucky reaches his hand down and gets it between them, wrapping it around Steve’s cock. 

“I can do it now?”

Steve makes the most gorgeous sound in reply, and Bucky strokes him firmly. His hips move a little, but there’s not enough space for Bucky to jerk him properly in this position. Bucky gets a couple of firm strokes in, feels the pulse of blood in Steve’s cock, but then Steve moves under him, his hand wrapping around Bucky’s wrist.

“Don’t want you to jerk me off,” Steve says. “Can I blow you?”

“Can you blow me?” Bucky repeats. “Yeah, I think I could get on board with that.” Which is the understatement of the century. The thought that Steve wants to blow him is overwhelming and just about the hottest thing he can think of.

Steve smirks and kisses him again, wet and dirty and perfect, and Bucky wraps his arms around Steve to deepen the kiss. Then Steve flips them so that Bucky’s on his back, Steve’s weight holding him down. It feels unreal to be pressed naked against Steve all over.

Steve slides down his body, kissing as he goes, nipping at Bucky’s collarbone, flicking his tongue over Bucky’s nipples, pressing his open mouth to Bucky’s flat abs. Bucky just watches in awe and threads his hand into Steve’s blond hair so that they’re connected. 

It feels like Steve spends forever kissing Bucky’s body before he actually touches Bucky’s cock - Steve places kisses on the crease of Bucky’s groin for approximately one hundred years - and then out of nowhere, Bucky feels the tight heat of Steve’s mouth close around the head of his cock.

Bucky audibly gasps, and again when Steve sucks. He does this magical thing with his tongue - no pattern to it, swirling and swiping it over the slit. It drives Bucky goddamn crazy until his hand is fisted tight into Steve’s blond hair. Steve keeps his lips pretty loose around Bucky’s dick as he works, going for the intricate tongue work instead of pressure.

When Steve does suck hard, though, Bucky thinks he might die. That pretty mouth of Steve’s is wicked, and it also appears he has no gag reflex, because he sinks right down til his lips are around the base. When Bucky feels the head of his dick brush Steve’s throat he cries out, desperately trying not to let his hips holt upwards and fuck Steve’s mouth.

Bucky’s losing himself to the pleasure of Steve’s mouth. He’s watched Steve’s gorgeous mouth so many times, those gorgeous full, pink lips, and he’s always thought they looked utterly sinful. Little did he know just how fucking good they’d feel wrapped around his dick. If only the rest of the world knew that the mouth that makes all those patriotic speeches also sucks cock like a pro.

Then Steve pulls off and Bucky whines because he’s so close to coming. He’s still got a tight hold of Steve’s hair, and he releases him as Steve moves his head down to mouth at Bucky’s balls, sucking on them gently in turn. Bucky feels so sensitive and wound up, and if he’s honest he feels pretty desperate too.

It feels amazing to have Steve suck on his balls, and he almost comes, especially when he sees that Steve has his hand of himself, jerking off as he gets Bucky off. When Steve fits his mouth over Bucky’s dick again and sucks and sucks, Bucky sees stars, and a zing of intense pleasure zips through him and he comes down Steve’s throat. Steve swallows down his release like a trooper and pulls off. He wipes his mouth with his free hand while his busy hand keeps jerking, until he comes on Bucky’s thigh, spilling with a guttural grunt, and then falling forward on top of Bucky again.

“Alright, now you jerked off,” Bucky says, and Steve giggles without moving from Bucky’s chest. It’s adorable.

“I did. And it was far better than doing it in a bunk on a Quinjet.” He moves to kiss Bucky. Bucky tastes himself on Steve’s tongue and it feels incredibly erotic. “Hey, do you have plans today?”

“Not since I punched a photographer!” Bucky jokes. 

“So, can we spend the morning together? We can stay in bed, I’ll make you coffee, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” 

Bucky eventually sums up the courage to phone Alexander Pearce. 

He sits on Steve’s bed with the sheets wrapped around his legs while he gets chewed out. 

“It’s not acceptable behaviour.”

“I know,” Bucky says. His head is bowed and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know it’s not. But he hit on me, and he was being an obnoxious asshole.”

Alexander sighs heavily like this is such a terrible hardship for him. “James, of course it’s not ideal, but you cannot assault a photographer. There’s unwritten rules around these things. Of course it’s not pleasant, but it’s all part of this. You know that.”

Bucky stays silent. He chews on his lip thinking a hundred things. The strongest and most prevalent thought is _this is bullshit!_

“Now I’m sure that if you just apologise we can all move on with this.”

Bucky’s blood runs cold, but his anger reaches peak. 

“Apologise? Me? Why the hell would I apologise? I defended myself from a creep who got too handsy and wouldn’t back off.”

“And did you actually tell him no, James?”

Bucky balks. He didn’t say no, but that’s not the fucking point. What happened was creepy and inappropriate. Bucky stands by his decision - he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Look, I won’t be apologising unless I get one from him first, and even then he’s a creepy perve who’s done it before and will do it again.”

Alexander sighs again. “Okay, James. Have it your way. Brock is difficult to work with, I know. But he’s not going to back down from this. He’s very successful, and he has a lot of sway. This is not going to go away.”

“What are you saying?” Bucks asks, his stomach feeling like it’s dropping out of his body.

“I’m saying that maybe you should take some time off. I know you’ve been working plenty lately. Maybe take some time and think about what you want.”

It feels like a thinly veiled threat to Bucky; put up with this bullshit or he could find himself out of work.

“Like I said,” Alexander continues, “Brock is very successful. He has a lot of pull, so I imagine that the magazine will go with another model for the centre spread. As will the booker for the _All Saints_ shoot you’re booked for next week. You understand.”

Bucky’s sitting with his head in his hands wondering what on earth he’s going to do when Steve comes back on. The warmth of Steve’s arm is a comfort, but not enough to quell the anxiety in his chest. Modelling is all he currently has.

“I’m assuming that didn’t go to well.”

“You assume right. My next job got cancelled. Rumlow meant what he said.”

“What about Alexander? You told him what happened?”

“He already knew,” Bucky says. He feels ashamed even though he knows he has no reason to. “He’s not on my side. Says it’s just part of the industry. He told me to take some time off. My next job is canceled.”

“Jesus, Bucky. He can’t-- he can’t do this, can he? Rumlow’s the one in the wrong. Pearce, too. Can I help try to fix it? I can make a few phone calls.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. Thank you, but no. This is my mess. I mean, I’ve been modelling a long time. I’ve put most of my savings away because I knew I couldn’t model forever. I knew at some point I’d have to quit - because who wants a fifty year old model, right? Maybe this is when I quit? Maybe I do need a break?”

“Maybe take the time off and look for a new agent. One you looks out for you?”

“Maybe.” 

Bucky’s not sure that looking for a new agent will even help, because Pearce and Rumlow really do have a lot of influence in the industry and it might make things very difficult. Bucky decides not to overthink it just yet, there’ll be enough time for that later. Right now there’s nothing he can do, and stewing in his misery won’t do him any good. Especially when he’s got Steve here, who’s warm and comforting and fitting himself around Bucky’s torso to full-body cuddle him. 

He can deal with the rest later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a plan, and Steve wants to save the day but just might end up enjoying himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to anyone who has been reading this, and I am so sorry that this last chapter took me so long to finish up.  
> I'm so grateful for all of the comments and kudos you've all given me. Seriously, you're amazing.  
> Special thanks to TearCatcher for her endless help and patience with me. <33

Bucky doesn’t work for more than a week. He speaks with his agent only once in this time, and Rumlow is still looking for an apology which Bucky’s doesn’t want to give. Word does indeed travel fast - or Brock’s word, a distorted version of the truth, he assumes - and there’s nothing he can do about it, so Bucky resigns himself to taking some time off until things settle.

Steve’s made his feelings very well known that the whole thing is a crock of shit and Bucky should not be judged for defending himself when he was being _sexually harassed_ for god’s sake, and Bucky agrees with him. He’s still not quite sure what to do about it though.

(He’s also had to talk Steve out of going out and finding Rumlow three times now, though he knows Steve means well.)

Steve’s week is pretty quiet too, for a change. He has a couple of meetings, and once he leaves Bucky’s place to go off and sort out a “low-level threat”, whatever that means. He disappears for a day and a half and even sends Bucky a text or two while he’s gone. Then he’s right back into Bucky’s arms.

But with neither of them not working, they spend everyday together. They spend most nights in Steve’s apartment, because it makes sense for Liberty to have company. They fuck incessantly - Bucky’s never had so many orgasms in such a short space of time, and it turns out Steve hasn’t either, even with his ridiculous recovery rate.

Bucky learns the things Steve likes; long, slow fucking, half dressed make-out sessions, getting sucked off in the shower. Steve seems to learn pretty quick what Bucky likes too, and he spends a long time taking Bucky apart, sucking and licking on his hotspots until Bucky’s a mess, every time.

It’s a good week, all things considered.

Steve brings Bucky around to the Avengers tower again, but this time not to the gym, just to hang out. 

Bucky’s...a little less nervous hanging out with Avengers this time. A little less. It’s like meeting the parents...with super powers.

“You met Natasha,” Steve says, and Bucky nods in her direction. “This is Sam.”

Bucky puts out his hand and Sam gives it a firm shake. Bucky’s heard a lot about Sam already, and Bucky knows how close Steve is with him. 

“So this is the famous Bucky,” Same smirks. “The guy Steve’s cat is cheating with.”

Bucky laughs. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“It’s like you’re encouraging her,” Sam smirks.

“Now, why would I do that? To get my neighbour to come get her? That’d be some plan!”

Steve looks at him in complete surprise. “Well, that really would be some plan. Imagine that! Imagine if I left my window open more often, knowing that she would go on adventures to your place. Imagine if I was thrilled to go pick her up.”

Sam looks between them like he’s trying to figure something out. Then he gives Steve a knowing look and Steve looks a little shy. 

“Alright,” Sam says to Bucky, “You need any help with this man, you call me. I got some stories about him.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve says.

“Oh, I do. He ever tell you ‘bout the time we--”

“Buck doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“I might,” Bucky says. 

“I’ll tell you another time. I feel like I’m about to get a lecture from the good Captain here.”

Steve just laughs like he’s very used to Sam’s sass.

Bucky finds the whole thing quite surreal, especially when Tony Stark and Pepper Potts show up. Tony is charismatic, abrasive, smart, funny and obnoxious all rolled into one, and Bucky’s intrigued by him. Pepper is charming and sweet and whip-smart, and sounds very interested when Steve tells her about Bucky’s intention to start up his own modelling agency. Bucky’s embarrassed and brushes it off; the agency feels like a pipe-dream and something that he may never pursue seriously. He always feels like those sort of big dreams are things that other people manage to fulfil and he will always be a follower, not a leader, but he still gets butterflies over Steve’s faith in him.

Steve gives Bucky a tour of the tower after, showing him the gym again, the kitchen and rec room where they all frequently hang out between missions. Steve sneaks Bucky into an operations room that Bucky’s certain he shouldn’t be allowed in, and even shows Bucky a huge conference room where there’s often meetings and debriefings held.

“I’m usually pretty bored in here,” Steve says.

Bucky grins. “I can imagine. All those important meetings about top secret projects and aliens. I’m sure it’s really dull.”

Steve snakes an arm around Bucky’s waist. “It’s really boring, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks. He doesn’t believe that it could really be that boring, but he’ll never know so he has to take Steve’s word for it.

“Yeah, I have to stop myself from daydreaming,” Steve says. He reels Bucky in close and his voice is lower, so Bucky’s imagination is running through all sorts of ideas that Steve could be daydreaming of during a boring briefing. 

“What about?”

“You, sometimes.”

Bucky blushes but he just stares into Steve’s blue eyes. “What do you think about?”

“About how this is a pretty big conference table and wouldn’t it be nice to fuck in the middle of it.”

 _Oh_. Bucky feels a wave of pleasure ripple through him. “I see,” is all he says.

“Yeah,” Steve purrs. “I mean, we don’t have to, of course. It’s all just daydreaming--”

Bucky cuts him off with a kiss and Steve wastes no time in turning it into a dirty, wet kiss where Bucky ends up with his ass pressed against the edge of the heavy mahogany conference table. Steve works Bucky’s belt fairly quickly and then before Bucky knows it the cool air is hitting his dick and Steve’s large hand wraps around it.

Steve squeezes just right and pumps a couple times and Bucky’s just gasping; five minutes ago he was taking a tour of the building and now he’s heading for a delicious orgasm.

It’s not exactly _on_ the conference table like Steve says he daydreams about, but that seems to be a technicality, because Steve drops to his knees and gives Bucky’s cock a long lick. Steve’s mouth is glorious as he sucks on the head, the tight heat so perfect. Bucky just holds on to Steve - one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. 

Bucky knows he has to keep relatively quiet because he knows that they should be in here, and really, someone could walk in at any moment. So he bites on his lip and swallows his moans. Steve keeps bobbing away, keeps on sucking hard and Bucky comes quick with his eyes scrunched shut and his head swimming.

Steve swallows him down and places a gentle kiss to Bucky’s stomach while Bucky’s regaining any sort of semblance of composure. 

Once he can move, he switches places with Steve, opening Steve’s jeans and pushing them down his hips so that he can gets his hand on Steve’s dick. Steve hums in appreciation and then Bucky begins to return the favour.

Bucky sticks to sucking on the head, hallowing his cheeks to suck hard, making it tight. Steve’s hand fists into Bucky’s hair, pulling out the bun that Bucky’s hair was in, threading his fingers through it.

Bucky uses his free hand to cup Steve’s balls, rolling them in his palm until Steve’s groaning.

Steve comes with a muffled grunt, and when Bucky looks back up at him, Steve’s got his fist in his mouth to keep the sounds in. He looks adorable and undone all at once.

They leave the conference room but Steve doesn’t bother showing Bucky any more of the tower, just gesturing vaguely in the direction of things. They’re giggly and smiley as they rejoin the group briefly. Bucky’s sure that his post coital glow can be seen from space, as can his grin, but he really doesn’t care. He’s happy despite the abysmal state of his professional life, and for now that’s enough. 

A week later, Bucky’s out with Steve. They got themselves a late breakfast in a little coffee shop with the best cinnamon buns that Bucky’s ever tasted. He’s full and caffeinated and content, and he and Steve walk the streets of New York together.

They cut through Central Park, deciding a walk would be perfect after such a nice breakfast.

After some kids stopping to ask Steve for a photo, a dog running up to lick Bucky’s jeans and some seriously adorable ducks, they stop for bottled water at a newsstand.

Bucky’s fishing coins out of his pocket when Steve starts pulling on his sleeve. 

“What, you want water too? Don’t think I have enough change for that, but I can break a twenty.”

“No, that’s not it,” Steve says. He’s still tugging at Bucky’s elbow.

“Then what?”

Steve puts both hands on Bucky’s waist and turns him so that they’re facing the racks of magazines. In amongst the rows of newspapers, lifestyle magazines, football magazines and all the rest, something catches Bucky’s eye.

“What the--”

The magazine in question is the one that Bucky modeled for on the last day he worked - the day he and Rumlow had their run in. The cover of the magazine displays a photo of Bucky from that day, and Bucky can’t quite believe it.

“My agent said they weren’t gonna use me. He said they’d go in a different direction, well, because he and Rumlow are assholes who would make sure they do. I wasn’t--I really didn’t think they’d use my work for anything, let alone on the cover. Not after everything.”

Steve grins a proud, lopsided smile.

“I’m so proud of you, Buck. You look amazing.”

“Thanks, but I don’t get it. I should probably talk with Alexander? I don’t understand.”

“I think it’s time you pay him a visit. I’m buying this, by the way. And a couple extra copies too.”

Steve scoops up a handful of magazines and pays for them.

They walk back to Bucky’s place hand in hand, and with Steve by his side he decides that he really should set up a meeting with Alexander. And he knows exactly what he’s going to say.

*

“I’m so glad that you changed your mind, James,” Alexander says.

Steve shifts in his chair, uncomfortable down to the core. He’s here for Bucky - as moral support, and for anything else he might need seeing as he knows Bucky’s plan for this meeting.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Bucky says. “With us.” He gestures to Steve beside him. They’re on one side of a coffee table and Alexander Piece and Brock Rumlow are on the other. 

“I’m pleased that you’ve come to your senses. Brock here has explained to me what happened on the day in question, and it seems like a big understanding.”

Bucky changes the subject. “I wanted to ask about the magazine cover? I thought that they wouldn’t want my pictures?”

“Yeah, well there’s no accounting for taste,” Brock grumbles. Steve hates him with every one of the super-charged cells in his body.

“What Brock means to say is that the magazine were very happy with those photographs and were pleased to use them. Brock is a wonderful photographer.”

“Well,” says Bucky, “I spoke with the art director of the magazine. Steve here has connections. His friend Pepper put in a word for me so that I could speak with them. I wanted to know why they used the photos of me even though I was told by both of you that they would not be used because, well, because I defended myself against unwanted sexual advances--”

“That’s not what you were told,” Alexander insists. Brock rolls his eyes obnoxiously.

“Yes it was,” Bucky says. 

Steve’s still silent. His gut is telling him to keep out of this and just be a silent presence, but man, would he like to sound off on these guys.

Brock and Alexander exchange a look, obviously something that they’ve discussed before. 

“James, we can put all of this past us and move on. All you need to do is apologise to Brock.”

“Apologise? Me? What would I apologise. I did nothing but defend myself.”

“Look,” Brock starts, but Bucky cuts him off.

“No, you look,” he spits. “I’ve had enough. I’m not here to be treated like this. It’s not okay. You can’t sexually harass people - and I don’t mean just me. I know you’ve done this to other people.” He points his finger right at Rumlow and Rumlow just laughs at him.

“I can do what I want!” Brock laughs. “You know why? Because I’m good at what I do.”

“So am I!” Bucky says. He takes a breath, and Steve is so proud of him. “And you know what, when I talked to that art director, she was curious why I was calling. So I told her exactly why I was surprised that they used my picture--”

“What exactly did you tell them?” Alexander asks, and he sounds worried now.

“Everything.”

The look on Alexander’s face is priceless. It takes Brock an extra second to catch up, like he wasn’t really listening. 

“Everything,” Alexander repeats.

“The whole thing. Everything from Brock sexually harassing me to you tell me I had to apologise. She was pissed. Appalled, even. I don’t think she’s going to be booking models through you again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Brock says cryptically.

“You can do what you want,” Bucky says.

Alexander sits back in his chair, his cool composure back in place. He looks smug and Steve can feel his anger rising again.

“You won’t work as a model again. Word will get out. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I don’t care. I’ve had some time to mull things over and I think my days as a model might be done. Even though that art director said they’d be happy to book me again, I think I’m done. So I don’t think I’ll be needing your services any longer.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not. Really. I’m starting my own agency. I’m going to do what you do, but do it better. No corruption. Look after my clients, you catch my drift, right?”

Bucky is positively glowing. His voice is strong and unwavering as he speaks and Steve couldn’t be more proud of him. Bucky’s face falls thought when Alexander laughs at him.

“Are you serious? Do you really think it’s that simple to do what I do? I have a lot of big names on my books. Really big names. I’ve been doing this for years and have acquired enough connections in this business to keep going no matter what petty little scandal you try to start up. So tell me James, who do you think you’re going to get to sign up and model under your agency?”

Bucky’s silent. The wind has been truly taken from his sails and Steve doesn’t even need to look him in the eye or think about it for even a second. “Me,” he says.

“What?” Bucky whips his head around so fast he probably has whiplash. 

“I’m Bucky’s first client.” He locks eyes with Bucky now, Bucky searching his face to see if he’s serious. “If you’ll have me, Buck.”

Bucky grins, his glow instantly back. “I have a client. A big name. You might have heard of him.” And with that Bucky stands and faces Alexander. “So go fuck yourself.”

Steve follows him as he heads for the door. They don’t talk in the elevator, nor as they cross the lobby. Not a word. Only when they’ve exited the building does Bucky turn and grin and Steve pulls him into a tight hug.

“You did it.”

“I did it.”

Bucky’s got tears in his eyes, happy tears, and Steve realises just how much of a hold Pierce has had over Bucky, just how much control he’s had these last years. Bucky’s free now, and Steve’s going to make sure that he’s never treated like that again.

“Steve?” Bucky asks from where he’s got his face tucked in against Steve’s neck. “Did you mean it? Are you really going to model? You don’t have to. I was just great to see Alexander’s face.”

Steve knows the answer. He’s been curious about Bucky’s world and though he’s been asked to model before, more that the very serious shoots he’s done before, he’s never done anything like he’s seen in Bucky’s portfolio. Maybe it’s time to seize the day.

“Yes. I’m in.”

*

“Are you sure about this?” Bucky says.

Steve gives him a little smirk and pulls on his shirt. “You’ve convinced me. I’m on board, okay? So unless _you’ve_ changed _your_ mind, shall we get on with this?”

“Yes, James. The boy has a point,” Peggy says. She shunts Bucky over with her hip so that she can stand in front of Steve. Then she sets about attacking him with all manner of brushes and powders so that she can work her magic. “You’ve got great skin, Steve, but the camera with make you pale and washed out. You need just a little bit of something.”

While Peggy does her thing, Bucky once again asks himself how he got this lucky. 

Bucky’s free of his contract with Pierce after some mild threats from Pepper, and to a lesser but more annoying degree, Tony. Bucky’s eternally grateful to get out of that, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realises that he was totally under Alexander’s control.

It feels liberating to take his life back and make decisions for himself. He celebrates by eating ice-cream with Steve until it descends into eating ice-cream _off_ Steve. 

After a little more help from Steve and Pepper, word gets around about Rumlow despite Alexander’s attempt to keep things quiet. Bucky hears from some model friends that people have stopped hiring Rumlow, stopped working with him. Bucky’s quietly pleased that he’s gotten what’s coming to him. 

With that sorted, Bucky’s been trying to explore how to turn his idea of having his own agency into a reality. He was all talk in his meeting with Alexander - mostly just to rub it in Alexander’s nose that he wasn’t needed anymore, and of course Steve volunteered to model, but Bucky was sure he didn’t mean it. 

It was only weeks later, lazing in Steve’s bed that Bucky brought up the subject again. With Steve wrapped around him he looked luminous against the white sheets, obviously some sort of supersoldier power, because no one should look that good first thing in the morning. 

“You look like a very pretty picture,” Bucky had told him, and they started up the conversation about Steve possibility of modeling as Bucky‘s first client. 

With a lot more help from Pepper they lined up a top photographer and Bucky used his contacts in the modelling industry to gather information on sets and lighting directors and everything else he needs to set up a photoshoot for Steve to do his first ever fashion shoot. Bucky’s gotten some calls from other models looking to see if he’s accepting more names onto his books, but Steve is his guinea pig.

There’s a magazine that wants to do a piece on Steve - Pepper passed on the details - and they want a photoset of Steve to go with it. It’s perfect.

The setting is a rented house - full-on, over-the-top suburbia, with white picket fences and all the trimmings. They’ve set up in the back yard and Steve’s almost ready to get in front of the camera.

Bucky watches as Peggy powders Steve’s face and neck. He grins when Steve squirms as Peggy’s brush sweeps over his neck and even his biceps. He looks a little surprised, but Peggy reassures him.

“It’s normal, right James? I’ve had to put my powder brush in worse places that a set of chiselled biceps. So long as you’re comfortable with it--”

“It’s fine. I just, uh, I’m not sure what I was expecting.”

“Just relax,” Bucky says. “You’ll do great.” And as Peggy finishes up her work, Bucky kisses Steve lightly on the lips, just a little kiss that won’t disturb his make up. 

“You will, you know,” Peggy says. “Now go have fun.”

Steve seems a little nervous, Bucky thinks, but nowhere near as nervous as Bucky is. If this goes well it could fill up his books and get him a lot of clients. So no pressure then. 

Bucky has no idea how he convinced Steve, but Steve’s in a fitted, plain white tee and blue jeans. The setting of the first set of photographs is the backyard; complete with lawn, patio furniture, barbecue set up, and the rest. They’ve even brought Liberty with them, though she complained the whole way there in her cat-carrier, and she’s been off eating flowers since they let her out. The concept of the photoshoot is hinting at Captain America’s life outside of Saving the World, but really he’s just supposed to look pretty. 

The first shots show Steve on a sun lounger, and Bucky’s sort of blown away with how good Steve looks straight off the bat.

Steve sits with one leg outstretched and the other slightly bent. He’s got his arm up over his head, and it shows off just how fit his body is. It also shows off how well-muscled his arms are. He hasn’t shaved in a day so he has the begining of some really gorgeous stubble on his jaw. Bucky couldn’t be more proud of how amazing he looks.

Steve put of his best Captain America thousand yard stare as the photographer snaps away. How Steve hasn’t done this before, Bucky will never know; he looks absolutely stunning. 

His expression is his well-practised _Captain America_ face, which never waivers into anything less serious. He looks damn good and that’s for sure, but with the setting being so informal, Bucky thinks there should be some more playful shots in there too.

There’s another thing, and maybe the camera won’t pick up on it, but Steve looks a little nervous. There’s something in the way his shoulders sit, something in his jaw that lets Bucky know that Steve internally freaking out about the whole thing and just putting on a brave face.

The photographer changes the position a little so that Steve’s head is turned. Bucky catches his eyes and he can’t help but smile, and it makes Steve smile too. It ruins his Captain Serious look, but the smile is genuine and heartwarming and Bucky’s sure the photos will reflect that. 

After the lounge chair, Steve changes into a darker pair of jeans and pulls on a red flannel over his crisp white t-shirt. Bucky marvels in how a t-shirt that’s one size too small can look so damn good as it clings to Steve’s biceps and chest, and how the flannel makes him look like a lumberjack. Bucky would really like to be thrown over Steve’s shoulder and be carried off into the woods. They have Steve lean against a brick wall barefoot and _god_ he looks good. Steve crosses his arms over his chest, showing off both his arms and his pecs to perfection. 

When they take a break for a new lighting setup, Bucky’s over to Steve’s side in a heartbeat, almost elbowing Peggy out of the way to get to him.

“Jeez, Steve. I had no idea you’d be so good at this.”

“Really? I don’t feel all that good. I feel a little silly. But I’m doin’ okay?”

“Okay?” Bucky says, baffled. “You look fantastic. Can’t believe you never did this before.”

“I did,” Steve says as Peggy musses up his hair artfully. “I told you, I’ve had my picture taken before.”

“You’ve done promo work for the Avengers. Serious shots, not playful ones. It’s okay to feel a little silly, you know. Play with it.”

“Play with it, how?”

“Jump into the skin of the character. This looks like Steve Rogers on his off days, so even though you don’t hang around in the backyard making burgers--”

“I could,” Steve says, and he sounds pretty adamant like maybe living in suburbia is something he’s thought about.

“You could. So play it. Be the Steve that sits on his lawn at the weekends and worries about weeds ruining it. Be the Steve who puts time into the home he loves because he shares it with people he cares about. Look over there! Liberty looks like she’s making herself at home already, she has her eye on that bird on the fence. Be Suburban Dad Steve who does all this shit and loves it.”

Steve looks at him with such affection. “I can do that.”

“Sure you can. But have fun with it, okay?”

Steve seems to visibly relax after that, and while he still does his thousand yard stare and smoulders like he’s about to combust, it’s interspersed with warm smiling shots of him, half the time looking off camera at Bucky. 

He does so well and Bucky could burst with pride. 

Three days later, Bucky’s lying on Steve’s couch with Steve pressed up against him flipping channels. Bucky has his iPad out and he’s just finished replying to two emails from potential new models to sign when he gets an email from the photographer that worked on Steve’s shoot. Attached is an advance copy of the digital contact sheet. Bucky know that contact sheets are the raw photographs, long before the best have been selected, long before photoshop filters and tools have been anywhere near the photos. It’s usually a good indication of how a shoot went. Bucky’s seen a few of his own shoots in this condition and it’s always fun. 

Considering this was Steve’s first shoot, and considering how well it went, Bucky’s thrilled to see these photos.

“Steve. Stevie. Look.”

“Hmm?” Steve’s still flipping channels mindlessly, but he looks up at Bucky, those steel blue eyes watching him closely.

Bucky thrusts the iPad in his face. “The pictures. I got ‘em. Or some raw versions of ‘em. Wanna see?”

Steve doesn’t move, still watching Bucky. “I don’t know. Do I?”

“Yes! Of course you do. Here. Move.”

Bucky wiggles and wriggles and shunts Steve with his hip enough that Steve moves and sits up on the couch and the rearrange themselves so that they’re both sitting and sharing the ipad. 

“Ready?” Bucks asks.

“No. Maybe.” 

Bucky knows that Steve has been feeling nervous about the shoot ever since they wrapped, concerned that he gave too much of himself away in the photos or that they will portray himself in the wrong light.

But as they begin to scroll through the selection of photos, Bucky can see a subtle change in Steve’s demeanor; he relaxes, seems interested in the photos, maybe even pleased with them.

Bucky can’t believe how good they look. Steve is quite obviously gorgeous, but as Bucky is well aware, that does not necessarily translate into a good model. Steve’s poses and expressions, the way he sits and moves all come across as someone comfortable in front of the camera. 

Steve has made the back yard setting look inviting, like the population of America are going to want to join him on that sun lounger and chill out with him for an afternoon in the sun. 

“I’m so proud of you, Steve. Do you like them?”

Steve takes his time to answer, scrolling through more and more photographs until he finally says, “Yes. I do. It’s just odd, you know?”

“I get it.” Bucky kisses Steve on the temple, because he remembers when he saw shots after his very first shoot and he wasn’t even famous, so it must feel bigger for Steve.

“I like these ones,” Steve says. He points to the screen where there’s the first of many shots that were not official ones for the shoot, but just of Steve and Bucky conversing, standing close together, all smiles. Bucky likes them too, but just as he’s moving on the the next photo, his iPad flashes up a warning that the battery is running low.

“Godamit! I need a charging cable. I gotta get a spare one for your place.” He looks at Steve all cosy beside him and looks back at his stupid run-down iPad. He doesn’t want to move and go back next door to get it, but he doesn’t want his battery to give up entirely either. 

“I can go next door and get it for you?”

“S’not the point!” Bucky says. He scrolls to the next photograph of him and Steve together, knowing that he’s going to make a decision soon and get off his ass.

“What if, at some point, we lived in the same apartment? Then all our things would be in the same place.” Steve asks, and Bucky nearly drops his iPad.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. Why not? We spend a lot of time together anyway. When I’m not over with you, you’re here. Libby loves you. _I_ do too.” And Bucky grins because that’s the first time that Steve has said it. Steve blushes, and it deepens when Bucky says, “I love you too.”

“So what d’ya think?”

“Would it have to be an apartment?” Bucky asks, because his imagination is starting to run wild with this.

“What about a place in the suburbs?”

“It’s like you read my mind.” Because ever since they shot at that house, Bucky has been doing just a little daydreaming about that it would be like to have a domestic life with Steve. He knows it’s not going to be all plain sailing. He knows that Steve is still going to run off to save the world without a moment’s notice. He knows that Steve’s going to risk his life and come home to him battered and bruised or maybe worse. But he also knows that he wants to be the one who tends to his cuts and grazes and tells him off for trying to get back into the fight when he has broken ribs. But Bucky wants that. He wants it all.

“We could get a couple more cats,” Steve offers.

“And a dog?”

“And a dog.”

“And a little hook just inside the door for your shield.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Steve grins and Bucky kisses him again and again.

“Count me in!”

**Author's Note:**

> I am @thislossofsleep on Tumblr so come say hi!


End file.
